


Campus

by personalobserver



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Angst, Baseball, Bottom Harry, Bottom Louis, Cheating, Cocaptain Liam, F/M, Freshman Niall, Graphic Description of Smut, High School, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Jock Harry, M/M, Partying, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Tension, Smut, Stoner Louis, Stoner Zayn, Top Harry, Top Louis, sharing is caring
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-13 07:57:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4514130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/personalobserver/pseuds/personalobserver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Harry sighs as he watches her walk away, before heading off to his geography class. He walks down the hall with the faintest feeling that someone is watching him, so he turns his head and briefly makes eye contact with the bluest eyes he’s ever seen, but he’s suddenly being surrounded by a swarm of his teammates and they’re shoving a phone into his face, explaining something about a player from Eastwood talking shit about Harry on Facebook. He quickly glances over the comment, and when he looks back over toward the water fountains, the piercing blue eyes have mysteriously disappeared.</i>
</p><p>Prompt: AU where Harry is a typical hot jock with a hot girlfriend and hosts the best parties and Louis and Zayn are stoners who skip gym to smoke behind the teachers' parking lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> That is a very short version of the original prompt that someone sent me on Insta. Not sure who the original poster is, so please let me know so I can give them credit - I'm just bringing their vision to life, and hopefully I don't eff that up too terribly.
> 
> This isn't even close to being finished, but I'm posting it here so hopefully I'll get some motivation to finish it; seeing as I currently have several unfinished fics just chilling on my laptop. So let me know what you think, and my goal is to update within in the next few days or so. 
> 
> Also, for everyone who is asking, I won't be continuing Somebody Better Let Me Know My Name, because I was contacted by someone who wrote a _very_ similar fic, and for the sake of not further upsetting them, I decided to discontinue it. Sincerest apologies to anyone who was really enjoying the fic. I was really into it, too.
> 
> xx
> 
> P.S. This is unedited and I only read through it once. Apologies for any mistakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am currently working on the newest chapter, but I'm going through and editing all of the chapters I have now.

Harry wakes with a start, long hair stuck to his lips and a too-warm body pressed against his chest. 

He cracks an eye open and peeks over to the digital clock on his nightstand, and _fuck_ he’s late for practice. He shoves Miranda off his body and stumbles out of bed, tugging on a random pair of boxers he finds on his floor.

“What’s going on?” Miranda asks from where she’s rubbing her fists against her eyes.

“I’m late for practice,” Harry grumbles. “Because _someone_ didn’t set my alarm like I asked them to.”

Miranda scoffs, pulling the duvet up to cover her naked chest. “Like you expected me to remember something you told me right before going down on me.”

“Well, maybe you should try a little harder to remember things I say, instead of always thinking about yourself,” he says it a little more harshly than he was planning, and he sort of regrets it as soon as the words leave his mouth.

He glances over toward Miranda when she doesn’t reply. She’s facing away from him now, and Harry briefly watches the way her shoulders move with her breathing. 

Harry groans, but his throat is so dry from sleep that it comes out as more of a growl. He pulls his t-shirt over his head, not even caring if it matches his navy gym shorts. He throws his gym bag over his shoulder, eyeing Miranda’s prone body on the bed, probably trying to fall back to sleep, or maybe just ignoring him. He goes to walk out of his room, but with a pang of guilt, he spins around and trudges over to the bed. He leans down to press a kiss to Miranda’s hair. 

“Love you,” he murmurs. “Sorry for being an ass.”

Miranda chuckles tiredly, reaching back blindly to pat his head, nearly poking him in the eye. “’S okay. Love you, too.”

He reaches around quickly to pinch her nipple, then flees the room as she lets out a shriek, not wanting her to retaliate by pinching his own nipple. They’re probably more sensitive than hers anyway, so it wouldn’t be fair. 

~

As a little tot in Little League, Harry never imagined he would eventually become the captain of his high school baseball team. It’s not even something he’d asked for – the other players having voted on it before he had even made it into the locker room. As a sophomore, it had been a tad bit overwhelming knowing he was captain of the juniors and seniors on his team, and some of them had even given him shit in the beginning by not taking his advice to help improve their game.

Now, as a senior, he’s looked up to by most of his team, and he was able to keep his position as captain along the way. With the title, also came the responsibility of running Saturday practices at seven in the morning, which should have started about an hour ago.

He quickly parks his Range Rover behind the batting cages and grabs his bag from the passenger seat. Stumbling into the locker room, he’s a little surprised that everyone is still there, and they all turn to him when the locker room door bangs against the wall. 

“Hi, team,” he greets, saluting them before he’s stripping out of his shorts and t-shirt.

All of them greet him without even batting an eyelash, already used to seeing each other naked basically every day after practices. He pulls on his baseball pants and jersey as everyone talks amongst themselves. He stands up from lacing up his cleats and tightens his belt. He spots Niall leaning against his locker where he’s showing Bradley something he has in his duffle bag.

Harry saunters over, the spikes of his cleats clicking against the smooth concrete. “What’s going on here, boys,” he asks, clapping a hand on Niall’s shoulder.

Niall immediately tenses up and shoves his bag into his locker. “Nothing, sir.”

Harry can’t help but smile. Niall is a spastic little freshman that also happens to be one of the best catchers that Harry has had the honor of pitching to. They quickly developed an amazing connection that allows them to win games, but Niall tends to put Harry on a pedestal and see him as something of an idol. Harry would be lying if he said he wasn’t flattered by it, but he just wishes Niall would view them as equals and stop calling him _sir_.

“No need to call me that, Ni.” He ruffles Niall’s golden hair. “I was just wondering what was so fascinating that you two were looking at.” He slides a glance over to Bradley, a transfer student they recently got this year.

“Um, well. Niall was just showing me the first purchase he made from Louis and Zayn,” Bradley says, shooting Niall an apologetic look.

“Louis and Zayn?” Harry asks, furrowing his brow. “The two stoner kids who are always in the teachers parking lot?” They both nod. “What could you possibly purchase from th—” Harry’s eyes widen. He knows Louis and Zayn are known for constantly having weed on them, but he had no idea it went as far as selling it. He quickly pulls Niall away from their teammates. “Listen, Ni. You need to know I don’t care if you do any of that stuff, you’re allowed to be your own person and do what you want, but I also want what’s best for you, and I know it may be tough trying to fit in as a freshmen. Just make sure you’re able to do your best during our games and practices so we can keep winning games, eh?” He nudges Niall’s shoulder, trying to lighten the mood, hoping Niall doesn’t feel like he’s being lectured to.

Niall cracks a small smile, eye focused on his shoes. “Yeah, of course. I can do that. Um, thanks for, you know. Caring, I guess.”

Harry grins, pulling Niall under his arm. “No problem, bro. Now, let’s get to practicing. We got some ass to kick next Friday.”

Niall wraps an arm around his waist as their team shoves them out of the door and out onto the field. Harry starts everyone off with warm ups, having Christopher lead since Harry called him out for not paying attention last practice. Harry strays off to the side of the group and starts his own yoga stretches that help the tinge of pain he always gets in his back. 

He can’t help it as his mind wanders off to Louis and Zayn. He’s seen them around campus a few times, and he thinks he might have them in a few of his classes, but they’re both always quiet and stick to their own little bubble of friends. He even remembers Miranda bringing them up once, asking if Harry could get a stash of weed to bring to one of his parties, but Harry immediately refused. Honestly, he doesn’t care if people bring weed to his parties, but Harry firmly stands behind his position of not being the supplier.

He’s got his body propped up by his elbows into a plank, and he nearly falls flat on his face when a baseball suddenly rolls beneath his nose. He plops down onto his stomach and jerks his head up to find the rest of the team working on hitting and catching. 

“Oh, come on. Wipe that pout off your face.”

Harry scoffs, not even having to turn around to know whom the voice belongs to. He pushes himself up onto his knees, pushing his hair out of his face. “I can’t help it, Payno. You guys can just go on without me.” He throws an arm over his face, feigning distress.

“Oh my God,” Liam sighs. “Why does Miranda put up with you?”

Harry barks out a laugh and stands up to pull Liam into a headlock. Liam is the co-captain of the team, and also a junior, so Harry hopes he’ll get the opportunity to become captain during his senior year. 

“I’ve told you before, Li. Just give me one night and I’ll show you why she puts up with me.” He digs his knuckles into Liam’s hair.

“No, stop!” Liam whines, prying Harry’s arm from around his neck. 

Harry chuckles as he watches Liam try to finger-comb his hair into some sort of order. 

“By the way,” Liam starts. “Have you found any extra shoes at your dad’s beach house? I haven’t been able to find them since last Saturday.”

“Damn, was my party too crazy for you? How the hell do you lose your shoes?” Harry can’t help but to laugh at his friend, a hand resting on his belly as it starts to ache. “They were tied to your feet for Christ’s sake!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Liam grumbles. “It’s not my fault your parties are the way they are.”

Harry shrugs guiltily, his laughter dying down. “At least you won’t have to worry about losing another pair of shoes until next Saturday.”

“No party tonight?”

“Nope.”

“Why not? Saturday nights were made for your parties.”

“Now who’s the one pouting?” Harry snickers, poking at Liam’s lower lip. “And because I’m trying to think of a way I can top all of my other parties.”

Liam scoffs. “Yeah, like _that’s_ possible. How are you going to top having a party on the governor’s lawn? Or when you rented out the entire night club?”

“You see my problem, then.”

Liam rolls his eyes. “Whatever, I’m sure you’ll think of something. Now let’s warm up your pitching arm and see if you can get passed ninety-nine miles per hour.”

Harry sighs, letting Liam lead him over to the pitching mound. “I mean, I _guess_ we can do that.”

Harry shouts and dodges out of the way as Liam tries to hit him in the crotch.

~

Harry gets home still sweaty from practice with grass stains on his palms from when he had tripped off the pitching mound. Practice had gone pretty well, although they did get distracted with a water fight toward the middle of it. It’s just hard to stay on track when their coach isn’t there to yell at them for being immature idiots. Harry may be the captain of the team, as well as a senior, but he can’t always suppress his inner child.

After practice had finished, the heat of the sun had already dried up any evidence of their water fight, so Harry had decided to just climb into his car and take a shower when he got home, while his teammates filed into the locker room – he had forgotten to pack any clean underwear, anyway.

He’s slightly relieved to see that Miranda must have gone home already, even though she didn’t really need to, since Harry’s dad isn’t going to be home for several days anyway. His dad being a traveling doctor had always made it difficult for them to have a normal father-son relationship, since his dad is typically on the road for months at a time. It’s not like Harry really blames him for not being there for him, because he’s always done his best to support Harry, especially after his mom walked out on them years ago. 

He’s never really told anyone anything about his family situation, not even Miranda, but most people tend to not ask anything regarding the topic since it’s pretty obvious when he has no one showing up to his baseball games to support him. He figures he probably could tell Miranda about everything he’s gone through with his parents, but her not knowing everything provides him with some room to maybe make up a lie or two about his dad being home, even when he isn’t; or a sudden change in plans to go visit his mom, which he _never_ does. 

It sounds more fucked up than it is, because he likes Miranda - _loves_ her even. They’ve been together for almost six months now, and sometimes Harry still can’t comprehend how he scored the hottest girl at school. They have more in common than Harry had originally thought they would, so he enjoys spending time with her and fucking about on a weekend, but he also enjoys his personal time that he spends being alone and doing whatever the hell he wants. 

Harry’s never been the type of person to rely completely on someone, given his past of his mom walking out, that maybe caused him to have a few trust issues. It also molded him into the strong, independent person he is today, and he always tells himself he doesn’t need anyone in his life, but if he has someone, that’s just a bonus. He supposes Miranda is his bonus; someone who can fill any empty voids when he’s feeling down or just wanting someone to spend time with. It’s been great having her around for the past six months, but he’s starting to feel a little wear in their relationship. 

He knew from the beginning that he and Miranda were not going to be a _forever_ thing. He’s never been known to be the type of guy to settle down with one person, and six months is the longest he’s ever been with anyone. He wouldn’t say it’s because he gets bored with people, rather, the longer he knows someone, the more that gets revealed about them and he realizes he can’t be with them forever. With Miranda, he’s started to realize how dependent on him she is becoming, and Harry’s not very comfortable with the idea of someone being dependent of him when he could either take them or leave them. He knows it’s ridiculous, and it hinders him in falling _completely_ in love with someone, but all he can do is blame his mother, who will never know the damage she has caused on his life. 

There’s only so much he can do, and he knows Miranda has become suspicious lately, most likely noticing his method of trying to distance himself and hoping Miranda will realize he’s not the guy she wants as her boyfriend and it will make their separation a little easier. He still has feelings for her, and he cares for her deeply, which is why he’s trying to make this easier for her. He knows their separation is coming soon, but he really just tries to keep his mind off of it.

So for now, he takes a steaming shower, and lets the water stream down his back and soothe is aching muscles from practice. He makes quick work of scrubbing his body free of any dirt and grime, and washes and conditions his hair; letting any thoughts of his situation with Miranda flee his mind.

He towels off in front of the mirror and checks his phone to find several texts from people at school asking if he’ll be having one of his infamous parties tonight. He smirks at the messages as he reads them. He knows his parties are pretty great, but physically seeing how much people look forward to them is something else. He replies to everyone with the same message explaining that there will be a party next Saturday, after he and his team beat Eastwood High’s asses. He gets back a slew of good luck texts and thumbs-up emojis, but he ignores them in favor of texting Miranda to let her know he’s decided to not have a party tonight, knowing she’ll let her circle of friends know, then hopefully everyone will know so he won’t have random people showing up to his house later. 

He makes his way downstairs to make some lunch, and to also check his alcohol supply, knowing that most people like coming to his parties because he always provides the expensive stuff. He also starts to think of how he can make this party better than any others he’s hosted, especially since he and his team will be destroying their school’s biggest rivals on Friday. 

~

It’s on his way to school that Wednesday when he finally comes up with the perfect party idea.

“You’re going to have it on a yacht?” Miranda asks, leaning back against her locker, raising a brow at him as he nods happily. “Why am I just now finding out that your dad owns a yacht?”

Harry chuckles, pushing a hand through his hair before settling his hands on Miranda’s hips, ducking down to speak into her ear. “You’ve been on it,” he says. “Remember our third date?” He leans back and bites his lip, thrusting his hips suggestively into Miranda’s. He closes his eyes in bliss and drops his mouth open for dramatic effect, before he’s being hit upside the head with a pencil bag. 

“Stop it, you pig,” Miranda scolds, but Harry can see the light blush across her cheeks. “And that _wasn’t_ on a yacht. That was some dingy boat that you said belonged to your friend.”

Harry lifts a hand to his chin, thinking. “Oh, you’re right.” He shrugs, grabbing her hips again and pulling her close. “What’s it matter? Now we just have an excuse to have more amazing sex, but on a _yacht_ this time.” He waggles his eyebrows, but Miranda shoves him away trying to hide her smile in her hair.

“Okay, Styles,” she says, walking down the hall. “Get to class before you’re late. Again.”

Harry sighs as he watches her walk away, before heading off to his geography class. He walks down the hall with the faintest feeling that someone is watching him, so he turns his head and briefly makes eye contact with the bluest eyes he’s ever seen, but he’s suddenly being surrounded by a swarm of his teammates and they’re shoving a phone into his face, explaining something about a player from Eastwood talking shit about Harry on Facebook. He quickly glances over the comment, and when he looks back over toward the water fountains, the piercing blue eyes have mysteriously disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment telling me how good (bad) it is. Thanks xx


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the few people who left comments on the previous chapter. I love comments, so I love you, too. 
> 
> I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.
> 
> As always, all mistakes are my own.

On game days, Harry usually tries his best to avoid any drama or dealing with any issues, which may result in him becoming stressed out. 

His game-day preparation always starts when he wakes up, when he has a steaming cup of green tea and does yoga in the sauna of his home gym. It always leaves him feeling renewed, and the feeling typically lasts him throughout the whole day until it’s game time. That is, unless someone comes along and completely ruins his mojo. 

And, this time, it just happens to be his lovely girlfriend.

“But Ha-rry,” Miranda whines, hands gripping the lapels of Harry’s varsity jacket as she leans up on her toes to kiss his chin. “Just this once? Please?”

Harry glares down at her before looking off to the side and sighing, “You know how I feel about supplying that stuff.”

“I know. I know, babe.” Miranda smooths out the fabric of his jacket with her dainty hands. “But...just imagine how much more popularity you’ll gain. Your parties are already known for being the best, and you have an opportunity to make them _better_.”

Harry jerks away. “You think I’m petty enough to do this for _popularity_? Did you just step out of _Mean Girls_?”

Miranda winces. “No, that’s not—”

“I throw these parties so people have a way to escape their shitty lives for at least one day of the week, before they have to return to the routine of dealing with assholes every day.” Harry bites his lip as he scruffs his boot against the concrete. “I just want people to enjoy themselves.”

“Exactly!” Miranda claps. “Now, imagine how much more people can enjoy themselves, knowing you’ll be supplying and they won’t have to worry about purchasing their own. That stuff isn’t cheap, y’know.”

Harry grumbles, pushing his fist up against the brick pillar next to them, watching the way his knuckles turn white as they dig into the rough stone. He realizes that Miranda has a point; it’s risky getting involved in a business such as Louis and Zayn’s, even just being a customer. The risk isn’t the reason he’s never bought any weed for his parties, he’s just never seen the thrill in it. Not like the thrill of downing shot after shot and completely losing all inhibitions and being the person you truly are. 

He straightens his back and drops his arms to his sides when he realizes this dumb argument is making him lose his cool about the game tonight. He’s not going to let something so menial get in the way of his team’s winning streak.

“Alright, fine,” he sighs. “I’ll talk to one of them later. Let’s just drop it, alright?” He reaches out and grabs Miranda’s hand, turning and leading her into the school.

Miranda doesn’t say a word as they walk through the double doors, but she squeezes his hand in her own, and he takes it as the only ‘ _thank you_ ’ he’s going to get. Miranda pulls him to a stop when they pass a group of her friends, and he smiles politely as the girls squeak out their hellos. He turns his attention toward the other students in hall; some people last-minute cramming for a test, and some copying their friend’s homework. Harry looks around boredly, until his eyes catch the movement of two boys stumbling out of the janitor’s closet.

He immediately recognizes them as Louis and Zayn, if their messy hair and all-black attire are anything to go by. They’re tripping around each other a bit, Louis’ head thrown back in a laugh that Harry can barely hear over the loudness filling the hall. Zayn has his head ducked down as Louis wraps an arm around his shoulders, and Harry can see the bright smile on his face from where he stands at the opposite end of the hall. Harry can’t remember the last time he’s seen the two of them so up-lifted and spirited, and he can’t think of any other explanation, except that they just shared a joint on the janitor’s closet. 

Harry can’t help but wrinkle his nose up in disgust.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Miranda asks, placing a hand on his cheek and turning his head to look at her.

“Uh,” Harry clears his throat, blinking out of his daze. “Nothing. I’m gonna head to gym.”

“Okay,” Miranda frowns, her voice skeptical. 

Harry places a hand against the side of Miranda’s neck, rubbing his thumb along her jaw as he kisses her lower lip. “Don’t pout, little lady. I’ll see you at lunch.” He kisses her fully, feeling her mouth mold into something more resembling a smile. 

Harry twirls away with a quick smack to Miranda’s butt, and he jogs down the hall toward the gym before she can retaliate. He gets a few fist-bumps and high-fives from his friends as he makes his way down the hall, and even hears a couple ‘ _good luck_ ’s shouted at him from random people by their lockers. 

He has his hand out, ready to push through the door into the locker room, as he tosses a glance over his shoulder. It almost feels like déjà vu when he locks eyes with the piercing blue that he saw only a couple days earlier. His heart stutters in his chest when he realizes the stunning eyes belong to Louis, along with the rest of his stunning face.

He sort of just stands there in front of the door, his arm still held out awkwardly, while he watches Louis’ eyes travel down his body, pausing momentarily at Harry’s shoes, before moving back up and making direct eye contact. Louis winks at him just as the school bell rings, and Harry jumps, his hand flying to cover his heart. He looks back trying to find Louis, but the boy seems to have disappeared again; only his soft laughter filling the air. 

~

Harry thought he had had somewhat of an idea when he signed up to be teacher’s assistant for freshman gym class. He likes sports and he likes helping people, so he figured it would be the perfect elective. Turns out, it just involves a lot of running around retrieving balls that the students throw or hit just a little too far.

Thankfully today they’re playing baseball, and Harry is currently pitching under-hand to Adam so he can practice his swings.

“Just keep you feet shoulder-width apart, and take a deep breath and let it out as I throw the ball, okay?”

Adam nods shakily, his fingers tightening around the bat. Harry lets him settle for a moment before he throws the ball, and he’s not even prepared when he hears the crack of the ball hitting the wooden bat. Both of them gaze up into the sky to watch the ball soar through the air.

“You hit it!” Harry shouts, running over and throwing Adam over his shoulder.

Adam can’t stop laughing but Harry can hear his faint pleads to be put down, so he abides. Adam scampers over to go play ball with his friends, and Harry turns around to watch the baseball roll behind the wall of the school building. He sighs and trudges over to it, figuring the students steal enough baseballs as it is, so Harry should probably collect all of them to return them.

He jogs around the corner and finds the baseball resting near a bush. He bends over to pick it up and nearly falls into the bush when someone clears their throat loudly behind him.

Louis and Zayn are hanging out in an alcove formed by two walls joining at a corner. They both have cigarettes hanging from their fingers, and Harry notices the deep smirk on Louis’ face. Harry immediately pulls the legs of his shorts down where they had ridden up while he was jogging. 

“Hi,” Harry greets, waving his hand holding the baseball.

Neither of them says anything, but give him a subtle upward nod. Zayn keeps tossing glances between Harry and Louis, an odd sort of tilt to his lips.

“Um, aren’t you guys supposed to be in class?”

Zayn snorts, flicking the ashes off the end of his cigarette before taking a long drag. Smoke billows out of his mouth when he speaks. “Technically, you could say we are in class.” He raises a brow and gestures to the space around them.

Harry shakes his head. “Sorry, I’m confused.”

“We have gym during this hour,” Louis explains, taking a puff of his own cigarette. 

“But, I thought you two were upperclassmen.”

“We are.”

“Then why are you taking gym? Just so you can ditch class and smoke?”

“Doesn’t really matter, does it?” Zayn chuckles, flicking the filter of his cigarette onto the ground. “Why don’t you get back to kissing ass with the teacher?”

“I don’t— I’m the teacher’s assistant.”

“Yes, we know,” Louis grumbles. “Now, why don’t you go back to kissing his ass? Or are we really so interesting you want to ditch class with us?”

Harry fingers tighten around the baseball in his hand, fighting the urge to throw it at either one of their faces. He takes a calming breath, in and out.

"There’s actually something I wanted to ask you.”

Louis quirks a brow, flickering a glance toward Zayn.

“We’re listening.”

“Well, I’m having a party on Saturday,” Harry pauses to swallow thickly, intimidated by the way Zayn is smoldering at him and the way Louis keeps biting his lip and looking him up and down. “And I was wondering if maybe you two could hook me up, you know.”

Louis barks a sudden laugh, tossing the remainder of his cigarette to the ground. “ _You_? You want to purchase weed from us?”

Harry nods shakily, watching as Louis and Zayn share a meaningful glance before they turn back to look at him.

“You a nark?” 

Harry’s eyes widen at Zayn’s question. “What? No! No, I’m not a nark. What the hell, why would you ask that?”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Mr. Goody Two Shoes suddenly finding an interest in our business after years of throwing us disgusted looks in the halls. Sounds fishy to me.”

“I’m not... I’m not a goody two shoes,” Harry pouts, crossing his arms over his chest, the two boys laughing at him. “Listen,” Harry snaps. “I’m only asking because my girlfriend has been begging me for weeks and she thinks everyone at the party will enjoy it. Okay? So if you hook me up, you two are free to come, it’s going to be on a yacht down at the docks. Anyway, if you can’t do it, or you don’t want to, that’s cool. Let’s just stop fucking around.”

“Alright,” Louis smirks, eyebrows raised. “Sounds like someone knows what he wants. Or maybe, your girlfriend is just good at telling you what you want, that it?”

Harry scoffs, “If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be speaking to you.”

Louis pulls a mocking pout. “Now that’s just rude. We’re fun and interesting people, aren’t we Zayn?”

Zayn just shrugs, fully absorbed in his phone now. Louis slides his gaze back over to Harry.

“How much are you wanting?”

“I don’t know?”

“Alright.” Louis smiles. “How about Zayn and I decide how much you’ll need for your fancy little party, and we’ll bring it the night of and you can pay us then.”

“You two are coming?”

“It’s a party on a fucking _yacht_ , man. How the hell could we turn down an offer like that?”

Harry smiles faintly, nodding his head. “Okay, yeah. How about I give you my number, so you can text me a figure estimate, so then I can make sure I’ll have enough in cash.”

Louis quickly flicks his eyes down Harry’s body, the corner of his lip rising. “Sure thing, buttercup.” He hands over his phone and Harry enters in his number with shaking fingers.

“Alright, here you go,” Harry breathes, handing the phone back over to Louis. Their fingers brush, causing Harry to jerk his hand away. “Just, um, yeah. Text me or whatever when you figure out the amount, and yeah...”

Louis nods, eyes never leaving Harry’s face. “Will do.”

Harry gulps, scuffing his sneaker on the ground. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, suddenly feeling more awkward now that they don’t really have anything else to talk about.

“Okay, yeah. Um, see you Friday. I – I mean tomorrow...Saturday. Tomorrow.” Harry can feel his face burning, quickly turning to jog away when all Louis does is laugh at him.

“So stupid, stupid, stupid,” Harry whispers to himself, shaking his head. He’s usually pretty confident when speaking with other people, but something, _something_ about Louis got him off his game and jumbled up his brain. He’s prided himself on being able to hold steady conversations with people, never once letting an awkward moment settle, but he can’t even be proud of whatever the hell just happened because it was awkward as shit. 

He rubs at his eyes then pushes his hands through his hair. He really needs to calm down if he’s going to be focused for the game tonight. He can’t keep replaying his conversation with Louis and picking apart the little things that made him look so stupid. He can’t let some stoner kid like Louis make him feel _embarrassed_. He needs to just get Louis Tomlinson out of his head.

But he doesn’t know how.

~

Harry stares straight ahead, watching as Niall signs between his legs. He nods abruptly, glancing in his periphery to the player on first base.

He settles into his pitching stance, gloved hand cradled to his chest, as his free hand gets comfortable fitting around the baseball. Niall is a genius – a curveball is perfect for this exact moment: one player on first, one player on second, two outs, a three-two count, and a hitter who likes to swing at anything thrown at him. He lifts his left leg in front of him, bent at the knee, as he winds up for his pitch. He follows through seamlessly, his right arm swinging around and releasing the ball at the exact right time. He watches through narrowed eyes as the ball speeds through the air, and makes a loud _smack_ against the leather of Niall’s glove, just as the hitter swings at nothing. 

“Strike!” the umpire yells, signaling toward the dugouts. 

The crowd erupts into cheers, and Harry yells along with them, pumping his fists in the air and throwing in a few hip thrusts toward the opposing team’s dugout. He’s suddenly tackled down to the red dirt of the pitcher’s mound, Niall laying completely on top of him and shouting in his ear.

“I know you could do it!” Niall cries. “Fucking curved the shit out of that ball.”

“Couldn’t do it without you, Ni.” Harry wraps him in a hug, huffing out a grunt when all of the other players have made it from out field and decide to join the doggy pile.

Harry lets them have their fun, even though he can feel his lungs being crushed in his chest. They let him up eventually, and the crowd of players surrounding him parts to let their coach into the huddle, and Harry’s too busy brushing his hair away from his face to notice the two players behind Coach carrying the remainder of the Gatorade jug, so he cries out in shock when cold green liquid is running all over his body and soaking his hair.

“That’s not sugar-free!” he cries, having a hard time peeling his soaking uniform away from his body. 

Coach Cowell chuckles, shoving him around playfully. “Damn right it’s not. Go take a shower, you smell terrible.”

“Wow. I am so feeling the love right now,” Harry grumbles, trying to fight the smile on his lips. 

“I bet Miranda will show you some love later!” Chase yells, immediately being put into a headlock by Liam.

Harry chuckles dryly, making his way toward the locker rooms as his teammates continue to gossip about the game and all of the dirty looks the opposing team had been giving them. 

“I guess they had all been talking shit for nothing,” Tyler says, shooting Harry a look.

“What shit were they saying?”

“Don’t you remember? We showed you in the hall. The stuff they put on Facebook.”

Harry shakes his head slowly, barely able to recall his teammates shoving a phone in his face and telling him to read it. That was the day he had been distracted by mysterious blue eyes in the hall – blue eyes that he hadn’t known belonged to Louis. No wonder he doesn’t remember.

“Sorry,” he says. “I don’t remember.”

Tyler sighs, appearing to be reluctant to repeat what they had written.

“C’mon, Ty. Just tell me.”

“Nathan, their first baseman, had posted a picture of you from a long time ago – one where you were wearing that bikini at Liam’s pool party – and he wrote something about how they were going to win because our pitcher is ‘ _too gay_ ’ to pitch correctly, and that you’re a better ‘ _receiver_ ’.”

Harry stops walking, his mouth hanging open. “That wasn’t—That was a joke! A bet! What the fuck.” He snaps his mouth shut, recalling that night that Liam had challenged him to downing eight shots in less than a minute, or else he would have to wear a bikini for the rest of the party. Harry had really tried to get all eight shots down, honestly, but really, he was kind of interested to see how it felt, and his already-drunk mind told him to slow down on the shots.

“We know it was a joke, man,” Tyler says, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “And I’m sure Nathan knew that, too. Besides, we won! That team is all talk and no walk. Don’t let ‘em get to your head.”

Harry nods, giving Tyler a weak smile, but unable to get the thoughts out of his head; the word _gay_ just zooming around on his neurons and over synapses. He’d never really thought of it before – being gay, or even just having people assume he’s gay. He’s liked girls since before he could remember; always liked hanging out with them and talking about everything, but he’s enjoyed doing the same thing with boys. Sexually, he’s never really had _intense_ sexual attraction toward anyone. Sure, he’s sexually attracted to Miranda, but really, _everyone_ is sexually attracted to Miranda. He’s also had the occasional moment when the team is training in the weight room where he gets distracted when Liam takes his shirt off, or when Bradley busts out one hundred push-ups, watching the way his biceps and triceps tense and relax.

He slowly makes his way to his locker, snapping his head up when the rest of the boys start taking off their uniforms. He suddenly feels like he doesn’t belong here, like, what if his own _teammates_ are uncomfortable around him and think he’s checking them out in the showers, or something? He pouts at the thought. He wants his teammates to be comfortable, and not have to worry about wandering eyes. 

He tugs all of his belongings out of his locker and sets them on the wooden bench behind him. He pulls out a clean pair of gym shorts and a plain white t-shirt. He quietly makes his way into one of the toilet stalls, and shucks off his Gatorade-stained uniform. He walks back to his locker with his soaking clothes in hand. The Gatorade in his hair is starting to make his scalp itch like crazy. He would do anything to jump under one of the showerheads right now, but now he’s feeling a little different being around his team. He watches as they strut around half-naked, some of them even _fully_ naked, and none of them seem to mind it. He firmly shuts his locker, causing the ones surrounding it to shake.

“Why aren’t you showering?” Liam asks, walking up to lean beside Harry’s locker.

Harry shrugs, beginning to pack his things into his duffle.

“When did you change? I didn’t notice.”

Harry bites his lip, digging around his bag to find his phone. “I changed in a stall,” he whispers.

“Why? You’ve always changed out here. No one cares.”

“I just...wasn’t feeling comfortable, I guess.”

Liam widens his eyes. “Did—Did you get...you know.” He nods is head down toward Harry’s crotch.

Harry’s jaw drops, not even knowing how to reply.

“Because that’s normal, I mean. It’s never happened to me, but we’re growing boys, and my mom told me—”

“Liam,” Harry cuts off, shaking his head. He lowers his voice, “I didn’t...get hard.”

Liam’s thick brows furrow, a worried line appearing down the middle of his brow. “Okay? But then why wouldn’t you change in front o—”

“Don’t worry about it, alright?” Harry cuts in, straightening up and giving Liam a tense look. “Just...just forget about it.” He hooks the strap of his bag over his shoulder and pushes by Liam to get to the door, but Liam stops him with a firm palm to his chest. 

“Harry,” Liam murmurs, his big brown eyes worried. “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

“Li,” Harry whines, dragging out the vowel. He can feel unshed tears burning his eyes. “No need to get all sentimental with me, okay? I won’t ever forget that I can trust you.”

Liam just nods, dropping his hand back to his side and nodding. Harry pokes him in the stomach with his index finger as he passes, causing Liam to double over with laughter. 

He’s always been extremely ticklish. 

~

Harry’s entire body is vibrating as he sits in the massage chair in his living room that night, an episode of _Master Chef_ playing on the large flat screen hanging on the wall in front of him. 

He can barely feel it when his phone vibrates in his lap, but he’s pretty sure the chair shouldn’t be causing a non-stop buzzing feeling against his crotch. He glances down and notices an unknown number calling him. He answers the phone just as the chair massages nicely along his pitching shoulder, and he can’t help the soft moan that escapes his lips.

_“Hello?”_

Harry immediately shuts off the chair, recognizing that soft, yet rough, voice.

“Louis? Shit, sorry. Hi.”

“ _Am I interrupting something?”_ Louis laughs. _”Miranda over?”_

“No,” Harry huffs. “I was just getting a massage.”

_“What kind of spa is open at this hour?”_

“I have a massage chair, idiot.”

_“Sorry, I’m not really into dirty talk.”_

Harry sighs, massaging his temple. “What did you want?”

_“What, am I not allowed to call you just to have a friendly chat?”_

“Please,” Harry begs. “I’m so not up for this banter right now. What do you need?”

_“One thousand dollars.”_

“Excuse me?”

 _“Your total came up to a thousand dollars,”_ Louis says. _“I can write you up a receipt on Word or something if you’d like.”_

“No, no. Just...how is it one thousand dollars?”

 _“Well,”_ Louis sighs, exasperated. _“I’m assuming you’re going to be having fifty-plus people attending your little yacht party, and there was an extra fee for pre-rolling some of it.”_

“Oh,” Harry croaks. “Okay, that sounds...good, I guess.”

_“You’ve never done this before, have you?”_

Harry laughs dryly, scratching the side of his neck. “That noticeable, huh?”

_“Just a little bit, don’t worry, babe.”_

Harry smiles, wiggling his toes into the plush carpet. “I wasn’t really worried, but thank you.”

The conversation lulls for a moment as there’s a shuffle on Louis’ end, and Harry thinks he can hear someone groaning Louis’ name, followed by wet kissing sounds. Harry can feel the way his spine straightens, Louis murmuring, _“I’ll be right there, give me a minute,”_ thinking Harry can’t hear.

“I should let you go. Sounds like you have someone over.”

 _“It’s just Zayn,”_ Louis explains, a loud shuffling following his words. _“He gets a bit frisky when he’s high.”_

Harry gapes for a moment. “Oh my—are you two...like, together, or something?”

There’s a brief pause before Louis speaks. _“Or something, I suppose.”_ He rasps out a laugh, and Harry gets a tingling shot of electricity around the base of his neck, traveling down his spine, imaging Louis’ breath ghosting over him as he laughs like that.

Harry breathes out shakily. “Okay, well. Thanks—thank you. I’ll see you and—and Zayn at the party tomorrow night.”

_“Yes, you will. And I expect to see you and Miranda, hm?”_

“Y-yeah, of course,” Harry stutters. “Oh, and make sure you bring a swimsuit, or something to swim in, things might get a little wet.”

Louis laughs loudly, his voice cracking through the phone. _“Very forward of you, Styles. I like it. I assume you’ll be wearing that stunning two-piece you wore at Liam’s last year?”_

Harry flushes, embarrassment creeping up his throat at the thought of Louis seeing that picture. “No, that wasn’t—that was just a joke.”

_“Mmm, that’s too bad. See you tomorrow, Harry.”_

The line beeps; signaling Louis hung up. Harry stares at his phone for a moment, his face still feeling warm, and his toes digging into the carpet. He can’t believe how _flirty_ Louis is, especially since he knows Harry is with Miranda. Harry would hate to say that he likes it, but...it’s so different from Miranda, who never really flirts at all with him, even before they started dating, Harry was the one to be forward and pull out the moves on her.

He slumps back into his chair, thinking back on how he actually enjoyed Louis poking fun at him, keeping him on his toes, enjoying the flushed-face stuttering mess Louis turned him into. It’s a different feeling for Harry to have, since he’s never really embarrassed by anything, especially by anything Miranda says to him. He really, _really_ likes it, actually.

Or maybe he just likes when it’s Louis doing it to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. 'boredly' is not a real word, but I like it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dang, I wrote this really fast and I just updated yesterday, so two consecutive updates whaaaat.
> 
> I hope y'all like it and that it doesn't feel too rushed. xx

It’s Saturday morning, and Harry is out of bed before nine.

He’s always put a lot of work into his parties, and even sets them up himself, even though Miranda has told him thousands of times that he could hire someone to do it for him. He feels more accomplished about his parties when he does it himself, like it’s actually _his_ party, and not just some get-together that he shows up to.

He loads up his Rover with all of his strobe lights, fog machines, and bottles of liquor; throwing in a few strings of lights that he can hang around the railing on the deck of the yacht. He crams ten coolers into his car, having to sit one of them upright in the passenger seat so they all fit. He stops by a gas station on his way down to the dock, and buys fifty bags of ice and ten cases of water bottles, shoving them all into the coolers. The shop owner had given him strange looks the first few times he had bought so much ice and water, but now everything is practically waiting for him by the time he gets there. 

Harry’s friend Rick, who graduated a few years ago, is waiting by the entry gate of the docks when Harry pulls up. Harry presses a button on the remote in his car, the gate sliding open. He gives Rick a thumbs-up as he passes, and Rick follows him in his Chevy. 

Rick has been supplying Harry with alcohol for his parties for years. Their deal includes Harry paying him back in full for everything Rick bought, as well as thirty-percent tip for his troubles. Harry’s even offered Rick invites to his parties, but Rick always declines, claiming he feels weird hanging out with a bunch of minors, plus he doesn’t want to be nearby if they get busted for underage drinking. 

Rick drives away once Harry has paid him off, and Harry stands with his hands on his hips, staring up at his yacht, then down toward the huge stack of alcohol-filled boxes next to him. He’s really going to need some help with setting up. Sometimes he forgets how big the yacht is, and how much time it takes to set up for parties, especially when it’s only him working by himself. 

He pulls out his phone as he unlocks the walkway of the yacht, having it gracefully lower itself down to rest on the wooden dock. He climbs on board, dialing Liam’s number as he climbs up the stairs in the back of the yacht, leading him to the main floor of the boat. The yacht is divided into three floors, the lower floor containing enough bedrooms to sleep ten people, the second floor being the living room, dining room, and kitchen, and the upper floor housing the bar and various seating.

_“Hello?”_

“Liam! How’s it going, man?” Harry grins, knowing Liam won’t ever refuse to help him.

 _“Good. I just—”_ Liam trails off to yawn. _“I just woke up.”_

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

_“No, no. It’s fine. What’s up?”_

“Well, the party is tonight, you know, and I was wondering...if you’re not busy or anything—”

_“You want me to help set up? It’s on your dad’s yacht, right? That thing is huge.”_

“Yes,” Harry smiles, jogging up the second set of stairs to check out the bar and remove the protective coverings from the furniture. “Do you think you can make it? I haven’t even started.” He jogs back down the stairs, and then down the stairs leading toward the bedrooms, opening a random door and shoving the furniture coverings inside.

_“Yeah, sure. Just let me shower and I’ll be right there.”_

“Sweet!” Harry cheers, walking off the yacht and over to his car, opening the back. “Let me know when you’re close and I’ll open the gate.”

_“Alright. Bye.”_

“Thanks!” Harry locks his phone and shoves it in his pocket. 

He begins by unloading the coolers and hauling them onto the yacht. He leaves two out on the back deck of the boat, planning on filling one with waters and one with various bottled alcoholic beverages that Rick had purchased. He does the same with two more coolers for the deck on the second floor, and well as scattering three coolers around the living and dining rooms. That leaves three coolers for the bar area on the third floor. He goes about retrieving everything else from his car and leaves it all on the sofa in the living room. He flicks the TV onto the Food Network just to have some background sound as he sets up. 

Dragging the heavy boxes of alcohol up the stairs is something Harry hadn’t planned for, and he wishes Liam were here already so he could use his superhuman strength. Somehow he manages on his own, and evenly distributes all of the drinks amongst the coolers, filling a few of the coolers with water bottles. He’s dumping ice into the coolers by the bar when his phone vibrates with a text. Expecting it to be from Liam, Harry walks behind the bar and he digs his phone out of his pocket. His finger is poised over the remote button to open the gate, but he falters when he notices the text isn’t from Liam. 

_hi . when do u want me to come ?_

Harry reads the text about fifty times before he even realizes he should probably respond. It’s just...Louis does this weird thing to him – even through text, apparently – where he can’t seem to get his mind to function properly. His fingers stumble over his screen as he types a reply.

_**You can come by whenever you like. I’m here setting up right now. I sent you the address last night – did you get it?** _

He sits down at one of the bar stools, suddenly feeling like he needs to rest. He watches his screen, seeing when Louis reads his text, and his heart jumps when a thought bubble pops up, showing that Louis is typing.

_ok & yes i got it . i’ll find out when z wants to go . he’s probably still slepping hah !_

Harry’s not really sure how the terrible punctuation and the spelling errors get his blood pumping through his veins a little faster, but he’s not going to let his mind wander too far and go into any deep thoughts about Louis Tomlinson. He’s also not going to think about how Louis mentioning Zayn makes his jaw click and his fists clench. Nope, totally not thinking about it.

He types up a quick _**Let me know when you’re by the gate.**_ and hits send just as he feels a palm flattening on his back. He gasps and whirls around, his fists up, ready to fight off whoever just barged in on his yacht.

“Christ,” Liam laughs, holding him his hands in surrender. “What’s got you so jumpy?”

“What?” Harry asks, his voice too loud, putting his phone away. “I don’t—don’t know what you’re talking about. Hey, why don’t we go downstairs and set up the lights?” He walks away from Liam, feeling the vibrations of his phone in his pocket, but he chooses to ignore it. 

Liam is a little more quiet than usual as they work, but that may be because Harry isn’t exactly trying to engage him in a conversation either. He can’t really stop thinking about the weight of his phone in his pocket, and how, in less than four hours, Louis is going to be attending his party. 

Harry needs to think of what he’s going to wear.

~

The party is just about in full swing by the time Harry gets back from going home to change.

He had decided on his short, red swim shorts, and a loose, billowy white tank. He adjusts his Packers snapback on his head to let it sit backwards, and clambers out of his car, nearly falling on his face when one of his flip-flops gets stuck on the brake pedal. He saves himself smoothly, and shoots a grin toward Miranda who’s standing by the walkway leading onto the yacht, greeting people and handing them a lei as they pass.

“Is everyone getting...lei’d?” Harry asks, biting his lower lip to contain his giggles.

“Ha ha.” Miranda rolls her eyes, tossing a lei at Harry’s head, causing it to get stuck around his hat.

“Oh that’s it,” Harry growls, charging at her and grabbing her around her hips, tucking his face into her neck and gently biting at the skin as she shrieks. 

He pulls his head back, still pressing her close to his body, and ducks his head down to catch her lower lip in a kiss. He lightly sinks his teeth into her lip, tugging on it as he pulls away completely. 

“You animal,” Miranda says, her face flushed as she fixes her bikini top. “I was trying to do you a favor, since you were _late to your own party_ , and this is the thanks I get?”

Harry grins, reaching around to grab her ass as he kisses her some more. More people enter the yacht, grabbing their own leis from the bucket on the ground, as Miranda lets the ones in her hand fall to the floor.

“Honestly, these aren’t the sights I was expecting to see while in your fancy yacht.”

Harry jerks away from Miranda, his lips feeling puffy and wet from both of their saliva. He spins around, only to find Zayn and Louis standing by the bucket of leis, each with a neon pink necklace of flowers around their necks. Harry’s not really sure what to say, so he just stands there, staring at Louis as he fish-mouths. He faintly registers Miranda being pulled away by one of her friends.

His eyes widen as Louis starts walking toward him. There’s a mysterious glint in Louis’ eyes, and Harry swallows thickly.

“I believe this goes around your neck,” Louis comments, lifting his hands to Harry’s head and fitting his neon yellow lei over his hat until it settles gently upon his collarbones. 

Harry nods shakily, letting out a breathy laugh, trying not to think about the way Louis’ fingers lingered on the side of his neck. He can still taste Miranda on his tongue, and he can’t help but feel something similar to the sting of guilt, and he’s not really sure why because he hasn’t even _done_ anything. 

Louis smirks and turns around, giving Zayn some sort of gesture that Harry can’t see, but it causes Zayn to make his way up the stairs leading to the second floor. Louis turns back toward him and smiles, letting a hand rest on a jutted hip.

“I’m assuming you have our payment,” Louis says, his eyes flitting down Harry’s body, and then back up to his face.

“Oh, shit,” Harry gasps. “I left my wallet in my jeans when I went home to change. I’m so sorry, I didn’t even realize—”

“Harry, Harry,” Louis chuckles. “It’s okay. I mean, unless this is your way of bailing payment, I know where you live so it won’t be that hard to get it.”

“You—you know where I live?”

Louis glares at him for a moment longer before he spits out a mouthful of giggles. “No, I don’t. I just thought it made me sound tough, or something. Did it work?” He quirks a brow at Harry, his eyes shifting over his body again.

Harry nods slowly, getting lost in the way Louis presents himself; so sure and confident, then so silly and fun. It’s amazing, and Harry finds himself becoming more intrigued by the boy before him.

“Well,” Louis clears his throat. “Zayn went to distribute all of the goods, to really get the party going. So why don’t you show me around this floating mansion?”

Harry nods again, this time more shaky and quick. “Yeah, sure. Um, let’s start on the third floor. I could really use a drink right now.” He starts leading Louis up the stairs, feeling sweat blooming on the back of his neck.

The main compartment of the yacht is booming with music, and the strobe lights make it feel as if there’s an actual club on his yacht. They fight their way through the sweaty mass of bodies to reach the other staircase leading to the third floor. Harry feels a gentle hand settle at the small of his back, and he turns his head to find Louis by his side, helping to guide him through the frenzy. His face heats up, knowing that everyone around them can see the way Louis is treating him, being nice and gentle, caressing the dip of his spine. He thinks about what Miranda might think if she saw them like this. He wonders if she would say anything, maybe run up and knock Louis’ hand away. But then, maybe she wouldn’t, because she probably wouldn’t feel the need to be worried about Harry and some other guy, because she knows Harry isn’t gay. Harry isn’t gay. Yeah, of course. 

They finally make it to the other staircase, and Louis applies more pressure on Harry’s back, signaling him to go first. Harry climbs the steps quickly, already thinking of the piña colada that has his name written all over it. The bartender Harry hired, Tobias, is a friend from school who dropped out a year ago. It just all worked out perfectly when Harry discovered Tobias had a bartending license. 

“Piña colada with cherries, please,” Harry breathes, leaning over to rest his arms on the bar.

Loud music and shouted conversations fill this space as well, but it makes him feel less claustrophobic since there’s no roof over their heads up here. Louis sidles up next to him, sipping a bottle of Modelo that he must’ve snatched from a cooler on their way to the bar. 

“I see you got the good stuff,” Louis nods toward his bottle. “None of that _lite_ shit that can barely pass as water with some beer in it.”

Harry lets out a laugh, leaning over to rest his head on Louis’ shoulder as his body shakes with laughter. Tobias slides his blended piña colada across the bar, with extra cherries on top, and Harry straightens up, clearing his throat and glancing at Louis out of the corner of his eye. Harry bites the straw of his drink as Louis smirks down at his beer bottle. Harry takes a long pull of his drink, before standing to his full height.

“How about that tour?” Harry asks.

Louis nods and stands straight, following behind as Harry leads him to the end of the third floor containing a small deck with tables and chairs. 

“This is the third floor,” Harry explains, gesturing to the space with the hand holding his drink. “It has the bar, obviously, a life boat, chairs, more chairs, and some tables.”

“Riveting.”

Harry smiles, chewing on his lip. “Follow me to the second floor.”

The second floor is much more crowded than the first – people piled on the couches and lounging at the dining table. Smoke now fills the entire space, and Harry feels his chest tighten with impending coughs. 

“Second floor. Also known as the living-room-slash-dining-room-slash-kitchen.”

Louis nods along, his eyes bright as he takes in the scene.

“Now, the first floor.” 

They push through the crowd of bodies again, and Harry’s not sure if he’s glad or disappointed that Louis’ hand doesn’t appear on his back again. They walk down the stairs leading to the deck on the back of the boat, and turn to walk inside a small open space leading to the bedrooms. It’s much quieter down here, especially as they walk further down the hall toward the front of the boat. He can almost hear Louis’ bare feet as they step on the carpet.

“This is the first floor. It has five bedrooms and I think three bathrooms?”

Louis chuckles. “You don’t know how many bathrooms your own yacht has?”

“What? It’s not like I use them all.”

“Fair point.”

Harry smirks and opens a door to one of the bedrooms. Louis peeks his head inside.

“Do all of the bedrooms come with complimentary furniture covers?”

Harry flushes, pulling the door closed. “Fuck off,” he whines. “I had to put them _somewhere_.”

Louis laughs, his teeth glinting in the low light, and his eyes crinkling at the corners. Harry stares at him for a second longer, until Louis stops laughing and shifts his gaze toward him. Harry takes a huge gulp of his drink, not even bothering to use the straw. A tense silence settles over them, Harry averting his eyes to the floor as he feels Louis shifting closer to him.

“May I?” Louis asks quietly, lifting a brow.

“What?”

Louis gestures toward his cup, eyeing the cherries sitting inside.

“Oh,” Harry swallows. “Yeah, sure.” He offers his cup over and Louis reaches inside, pulling out a cherry by the stem.

Louis settles the cherry into his mouth, plucking the stem off and putting it in his empty beer bottle. Harry watches as Louis reaches in his cup for another cherry, lifting it higher to eye level.

Harry realizes that they’re so _close_ all the sudden, barely any space between their chests, as Louis holds the cherry up between both their faces. Harry’s eyes flick between the cherry and Louis’ mischievous face. He has no idea what he has planned, especially when the cherry and Louis seem to be moving closer to him. He has to cross his eyes now to even be able to focus on the cherry between their faces.

His breath stutters when the cold cherry touches his lower lip, the smooth fruit gliding across his lip. He darts his tongue out to collect the juices it left behind before it drips onto his chin. Louis hums, deep in his throat, settling the cherry back on the center of Harry’s lip, and Harry can’t resist poking his tongue out to lick at the fruit. He flicks his eyes over to Louis, who’s staring intently at his mouth, but his eyes flick up to Harry’s as if he can feel Harry watching him. Harry’s heart is beating wildly against his chest, but, with a burst of confidence as Louis refocuses on his lips, he purses his lips to suck the red fruit into his mouth, gently tugging on it until it snaps from its stem. He chews the cherry slowly, savoring the flavor as well as the hot feeling of having Louis this close.

Louis steps in closer, grabbing Harry’s cup and setting it on a shelf in the hall, along with his beer bottle. Louis’ fingers curl around the hem of Harry’s tank, tugging it higher and rubbing his knuckles along the warm skin of Harry’s hips.

“You should take your shirt off, since you’re not going to be needing it,” Louis mumbles, and index finger tucking into the waistband of Harry’s swim shorts. 

“W-why?” Harry stutters on a breath, his blood racing through his veins, and his mind nearly blacking out.

Louis head ducks down, their lips just barely meeting in a phantom of a touch, before Louis is pulling away completely and running back down the hall and out onto the deck. 

“Because things are going to get a little wet!” Louis shouts, shucking off his shirt before cannonballing into the water.

Harry stands in the hall in shocked silence, watching through the opening to the deck as Louis resurfaces in the water, the floodlight on the back of the yacht lighting up the water surrounding it. He lifts a shaking hand to his mouth, his middle finger running over where Louis’ lips had barely caressed. It almost feels as if none of that happened, like, how could it have been real? 

Several other partygoers are launching themselves into the water, most of their leis slipping over their heads and floating on the surface. Harry removes his phone and car keys from his pocket, setting them on the shelf next to Louis’ beer bottle. He slowly makes his way out onto he deck, unable to tear his eyes away from where Louis is floating on the surface of the water, his tan torso stretched out with his arms tucked behind his head. Harry kicks off his flip-flops, hooking his toes over the edge of the deck, grasping the hem of his tank top and lifting it over his head. He tosses it to the side, and when he looks at Louis again, their eyes meet instantly.

Louis smirks and sucks in a breath before sinking under the water. Harry squints, unable to see Louis beneath the dark water. He wonders how Louis can even see under the water, as well as weave his way through all of the bodies. Harry is so focused on squinting out into the water, trying to find a glimpse of Louis, that he doesn’t even notice the hands curling around the edge of the deck beside his feet. He lets out a shriek as Louis launches himself out of the water in front of him, lifting himself up with his hands on the deck. Louis quickly wraps his arms around Harry’s waist, pulling Harry down with him as he descends back into the water. 

Water immediately shoots up Harry’s nose as he squeezes his eyes closed under water. He flails his arms, trying to grasp onto something to pull himself up. A hand slips into his own, pulling him toward the surface of the water. He flicks his head back, his wet hair flopping back as he gasps for air. He finds Louis smiling at him, reaching out and setting his Packers hat back onto his head.

“Sorry it got wet,” Louis says. “Didn’t realize you were still wearing it.”

Harry shakes his head, still gasping as water drips out his nose. “It’s okay,” he breathes, his feet kicking at the water to keep himself afloat.

They watch each other as everyone around them chatters, music blasting from the speakers on the deck of the yacht. Harry sinks lower in the water until the water level is just below his nose. He sends a small splash of water toward Louis, grinning wide, letting water slip between his teeth. Louis glares at him, readying his arm to splash Harry, when a pair of slender arms loop around Harry’s neck, soft giggles pressed into his shoulder.

“Babe,” Miranda murmurs, the word broken up by her giggles. “Babe, this party—your party is amazing.”

Harry’s body tenses, watching the way Louis’ smile drops off his face. Louis swims away from them to climb back onto the yacht, slipping on his shirt before ascending the stairs. Harry spins to face Miranda, her hooded eyes glancing over his face as she wraps her legs around his waist.

“Are you...are you high?” he asks, pushing her away slightly. 

“Maybe,” she grins, tucking her warm face into his neck.

“Can you get off me?” He pries her legs from around his hips.

Miranda pouts, pulling away from him. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“Nothing. I just...I don’t like that stuff.”

“You sure don’t seem to mind that Louis uses it. You’ve been hanging off his arm all night.”

Harry feels like he’s been slapped, his head snapping up to stare at Miranda. “What are you—that’s not what’s happening.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Miranda sings, swimming away toward a group of people.

Harry watches her, watches as she intermingles with her friends, hanging off their shoulders and laughing too loudly. He can’t believe that she would just call him out like that, especially out in front of all of these people. He thinks about how he had spent all of his time with Louis ever since he first showed up – he realizes he wasn’t being very subtle about whatever the hell he was doing. But...he wasn’t really _doing_ anything. He was just enjoying Louis’ company, and his smile, and his laughs.

He doesn’t really understand how he and Louis get along so easily so quickly. Honestly, they had never even spoken to each other before that day out behind the gym building. He and Louis come from such different ways of life and groups of friends; whereas Harry and Miranda are involved in the same social groups and activities. Harry likes how much in common he and Miranda have, because it makes him feel safe and comfortable. But...but after meeting Louis, someone so _different_ from himself, he can’t help but be intrigued and interested by this strange boy who so suddenly and unexpectedly fell into his life.

He looks at Miranda, then over to the deck of the yacht. It doesn’t take him even a second to swim toward the boat’s ladder, instead of going over to Miranda to apologize. He doesn’t really feel a need to apologize, because Miranda knows how he feels about weed smoking. She should know that is bothers Harry when she smokes because he’s dating her and they’re in a relationship. It doesn’t bother Harry that Louis smokes, because they’re not _dating_. Then again, when it’s someone like Louis who does it, he can’t help but feel drawn into him; to figure out if he smokes to forget about his worries, or maybe to just lift his spirits.

He climbs out of the water and pulls on his tank top. He sets off into the yacht with tingling in his stomach and an itch beneath his skin. His eyes search the space for any sign of Louis, and he has a knew mission in mind:

To find out what sort of spell Louis has put him under, and why the hell Louis teased him with a cherry in the hallway.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a continuation of the previous one and is also much shorter. 
> 
> Enjoy xx

It’s always easy for Harry to get lost in a party. Not physically, but just mentally losing himself amongst the people he’s surrounded by. 

He forgets what he had planned on doing when he walks into the living room, Niall and Bradley pouncing on him and handing him drink after drink after drink. It makes him feel good, being surrounded by his friends and bouncing along to the crazy music, feeling the yacht shifting and swaying with their movement. He has to stop after a while, sitting down on the sofa to stop the spinning of the room. He cackles a laugh as Niall dances on the coffee table, so many leis over his head that he can most likely barely see anything around him. 

Harry glances around the room, feeling pride fill his chest as he sees how much everyone seems to be enjoying themselves. A bunch of trash is starting to litter the floors; plastic cups being stomped on as everyone dances around, but he really can’t bring himself to care. He notices someone barefoot dancing precariously close to a pile of glass left by a broken beer bottle. He stands up quickly and stumbles over, ready to warn the person, but when his eyes trail up the body of the barefooted person, he stops in his tracks as soon as he recognizes the damp head of caramel hair bopping along to the beat.

He suddenly remembers his plan to speak with Louis about everything that’s been going on between them, about how Louis shouldn’t attempt kissing him anymore, because he’s in a relationship, so there can’t be any teasing with cherries or heated glances.

He watches as Louis moves away from him, Zayn tugging at his arm and leading him up the stairs leading to the third floor. Harry straightens his back and squirms his way through the crowd of people, only occasionally getting distracted when people pull him into their dance circle and pass him drinks. By the time he emerges near the stairs, he has a few more leis around his neck, and a neon green cocktail in his hand. He sips on his new drink as he ascends the stairs, humming happily when it tastes of apple. 

His footing is slightly staggered as he walks onto the third floor. He wouldn’t consider himself to be drunk yet, but he’s starting to feel a nice buzz throughout his body, making his limbs loose and his mind easy. He spots Louis and Zayn leaning back against the railing on the deck, the string of lights turning their skin a golden yellow in the night. Louis locks eyes with him; smoke puffing out of his lips as people mill about the space separating them. Harry is slightly entranced by the smoke furling around Louis’ face, making him appear to be even more mysterious than he already is.

He walks over to them, excusing himself when he accidentally runs into people. He emerges from the crowd of people and seeks out Louis again, having lost him on his trek over. He immediately stops breathing, because Louis and Zayn are stood right in front of him, but their lips are locked together, smoke billowing out between their mouths. He can’t help but stand there open-mouthed as they break apart, their lips shiny in the low light. Louis glances at him, most likely noticing his shocked expression.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” Louis gruffs, the smoke making his voice raspier than normal.

Harry immediately stumbles closer. “I wasn’t—I wasn’t judging you,” he mumbles, quickly gulping down most of his apple drink.

“What the hell is that?” Louis laughs, his finger pointing out to poke at Harry’s neon green concoction. “You drinking battery acid?”

Harry can’t fight his grin, the straw of his drink clamped between his back teeth. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” he sings lightly, taking another sip. 

Louis expression almost turns into gleeful surprise, his head tilted back slightly as he leans back against the railing. Harry suddenly realizing that Louis has taken his shirt off again at some point, his eyes tracing over the firm lines of his torso. His eyes glance over to Zayn to find the other boy smirking at him, the joint settled between his lips. Harry leans back on the support beam behind him, aiming for a look of nonchalance and carefreeness; meanwhile, his heart is beating rapidly against his ribs and there’s a slow burn of something in his gut. 

“How long have you two...um, you know...” He gestures towards the blunts in their hands, each of them blowing out clouds of smoke.

Zayn grins crookedly, shooting a look toward Louis. “How long would you say, Louis? I can’t even remember.”

Louis purses his lips, the line of his brow furrowing. “I think we started smoking in, like, what, eighth grade? Zayn’s cousin would give us some, and he eventually asked if we wanted to start selling it around the same time. We were young and money hungry, both of our parents working hard to support our families, so there wasn’t a bunch of extra money lying around.” Louis shrugs, raising his gaze toward Harry. “We figured we were helping our parents by bringing in some extra cash to put towards clothes and food and stuff.”

Harry’s chest constricts with an ache for the two boys standing in front of him. Their good intentions getting them involved with something so dangerous just to help out their struggling families. Honestly, he can’t even imagine what that would be like – having a weight on his shoulders from watching his parents doing their best to raise him. He’s always been blessed with a dad who has an excellent job, and, obviously, money isn’t tight in Harry’s household. He’s hosting a party on his fucking _yacht_ for Christ’s sake. 

“That’s...” Harry clears his throat, shaking his glass and causing the ice to ping against the sides. “That’s very thoughtful of—of both of you. To do that for your families.”

Louis takes a long drag, puffing the smoke out on a loud sigh. “Yeah, well. Not all of us can have yachts and Range Rovers.” He gives Harry a sad smile, and Harry immediately feels like shit, even though it’s really not his fault that he’s been given what he has.

All three of them are quiet, glancing around at the other partygoers, the shaking of drinks and clinking of glasses complementing the music-filled air. Harry chews on his lower lip, feeling like he should just leave his own party and go home to have a good cry in the shower. 

“Have you ever smoked?” Zayn asks, Harry’s head snapping up to look at him.

“Um, like, once or twice during freshman year.”

“Not a fan, I take it?”

Harry wrinkles his nose. “Not really. Not sure why.”

“You probably didn’t have the good stuff,” Zayn grins, holding out the remainder of his blunt. “Go on. Give it a try.”

Harry gapes, staring down at the rolled paper between Zayn’s fingers. “I—uh...” It’s suddenly feeling like freshman year again, the anxiety of peer pressure filling his lungs.

“Lay off it, Z,” Louis chuckles, swatting at Zayn’s forearm, the joint falling to the floor. “Maybe he’ll try some when he’s ready.”

He looks up from his bare toes to find Louis watching him. Their heat-filled gaze shouldn’t be surprising at all, since it’s basically how they look at each other all the time, but now it’s making Harry’s stomach churn, a blush rising up his neck and heating his face. He clutches at his stomach, shifting back to lean more of his weight against the support beam behind him as he starts to feel lightheaded. 

“Bro, you alright?”

Harry looks up at Zayn, his vision blurring and lids heavy. He shakes his head a second before his legs give out and his mind blacks. He crumples to the floor, his glass shattering against the wood.

~

Harry’s body feels the lightest it’s ever been. He’s practically floating down the hall of the school, toward the familiar locker with _Vans_ stickers covering the front of it. He spots Louis standing beside it, a lovely smile spread across his face as he talks to Zayn. Harry keeps floating toward him, like he’s not even trying to go in his direction – his body sort of leading him there on its own. Louis looks over at him, his eyes crinkling as they greet each other. But Harry’s body doesn’t stop moving toward him, doesn’t stop until their lips are pressed together, and their bodies snug, fitting together like a puzzle.

...

Harry inhales deeply, his eyes struggling to open, despite the low light in the room. There are fingers running through his hair, and he doesn’t even know whom they belong to, but the ministrations feel amazing against his scalp. He lets out a small groan, pressing his head further toward the hand in his hair.

“Miranda?” he rasps, not yet opening his eyes.

“No,” a voice chuckles, the fingers more firm against his scalp. “She went home about half an hour ago. She was so drunk she couldn’t even stand upright.”

“Louis?” Harry asks, tilting his head back and cracking open an eyelid. 

Louis’ smiling, upside-down face comes into view, although it’s a little blurry around the edges. Harry realizes his head must be placed in Louis’ lap, and just the thought of being so close to him makes his cheeks warm.

“I’m—how long was I out for?”

Louis’ chilly fingers brush over his heated cheeks, making him feel like turning over and burying his face into the comforter.

“Probably about forty-five minutes,” Louis murmurs, tucking stray curls behind his ears. “I think you must’ve drank too much of that battery acid.”

“I’m sorry. You—go back to the party. I’ll just...rest here.” He glances around the room, noticing they’re in one of the bedrooms on the yacht, music shaking the ceiling above them.

“Nah, it’s fine.” Louis shrugs, leaning back against the pillows behind him, his hand still tangled in Harry’s hair, but no longer moving. “Zayn left soon after your little dramatics.”

“Hey,” Harry whines, rolling to the side so his head is no longer resting in Louis’ lap. He props his head up on his hands, his lower lip pouting. “It’s not like I passed out on _purpose_.”

“Right,” Louis teases, but his face is serious, nodding. “This wasn’t your plan all along in order to get me in bed.”

Harry groans, smashing his face into the mattress. “That’s not at all what’s going on,” he grumbles, peeking an eye out from his hiding spot to glance at Louis, who’s just smiling at him.

“Right.” 

“I’m serious.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I am!”

“I’m agreeing with you!” Louis laughs, reaching over to muss Harry’s hair. “Don’t get your curls in a twist.”

“Isn’t that the point of curls? For them to twist?”

“You know what?” Louis starts, slowly leaning forward. “You’re starting to get very sassy since the first time we met, and I don’t think I appreciate it.”

Harry rolls over onto his side, an innocent smile on his face. “Yeah, well, that’s too bad. I don’t think there’s anything you can do about it.”

“Oh?” Louis voice gets all high, a surprised look on his face, but a teasing tone to his words. “Is that so? I think I have an idea.”

Harry bites his lip, his eyes flitting across Louis’ face. His heart starts to hammer as he watches Louis crawling closer to him. His breath hitches when Louis pushes him onto his back, the air knocked out of his lungs as he stares up at Louis above him, watching with fascinated awe when Louis swings a leg over his hips. He barely gets a chance to enjoy the warm weight of Louis on top of him before there are sneaky fingers jabbing beneath his armpits, and prodding at his ribs.

Harry barks out a surprised laugh, throwing his head back and swatting at Louis’ hands. His legs twitch as he contemplates just kneeing Louis in the back to get him off, but that might result in an angry Louis towering above him, so he refrains. 

“Stop it, Louis. Oh God, please, _please_ ,” Harry begs, his voice broken up by laughter. He tilts his head down to give Louis his best attempt at puppy eyes.

Louis shakes his head, tickling further down his sides. 

Harry shoves the back of his head into the mattress below him, laughter filling his lungs and making it difficult for him to breathe. “Please, Lou. I’ll do—I’ll do anything, oh my God, please. I’m gonna pee.”

Louis chuckles, continuing his attack. “You’ll do anything?”

“Yes,” Harry gasps between cackles.

Louis pauses, gazing down at Harry’s flushed face. “Smoke with me.”

“What? I—”

“I mean, you don’t _have_ to...” Louis lightly tickles at Harry’s sides, making him twitch away from the contact.

Harry inhales sharply. “Alright, alright. Just—get your terrorizing fingers away from me.”

Louis grins, sitting back on Harry’s thighs to dig in the pocket of his swim trunks. He pulls out a plastic baggie filled with rolled blunts, and a checker-print lighter. Harry watches with worried eyes, Louis pulling a joint from the bag and settling an end in his mouth before lighting it. He takes a long pull, his chest puffing out, as the end of the rolled paper burns bright in the dim light. 

Harry lies on his back, watching Louis take a few more drags, placing his hands on Louis’ thighs where they’re resting on either side of Harry’s hips. Louis is looking at him as he smokes, his hair messy around his face, his eyes dark behind heavy lashes. Harry cranes his neck forward and whines, wanting to have a taste of what Louis is smoking. 

“Alright, you baby,” Louis chuckles, smoke escaping his mouth in halted puffs. “I’ll hold it, just take a steady breath, okay?”

Harry nods, licking his lips. Louis places the smooth end of the joint between Harry’s lips. They lock eyes as Harry closes his lips around it, his chest rising with a slow inhale. It causes a dry burn to erupt in the back of his throat, but Louis seems to know to pull the joint away at just the right time before Harry has a coughing attack.

“Keep it in for a moment,” Louis says, but he must see the way Harry’s eyes are starting water, so he waves his hand, saying, “Never mind, let it out.”

Harry exhales a bit too quickly, the smoke catching on the back of his throat and making him hack out a cough. He props himself up on his elbows, and Louis reaches around to smack at the top of his back.

“Been a while, eh?”

Harry smirks. “Yeah.”

“Do you want some more?”

Harry nods, plucking the blunt from Louis’ fingers and taking a quick pull, holding the smoke in for a second, before exhaling in through his nose. He watches the smoke billow out of his nostrils with crossed eyes, making him crack a smile and the remainder of the smoke scratches at his throat. 

“Have you ever shotgunned before?”

Harry glances up at Louis, slowly passing back the joint while shaking his head. He watches Louis carefully as he rolls the joint between his index finger and thumb, before raising his head to look at Harry, a tentative smile on his face. 

“You wanna?”

Harry immediately shakes his head, but his mind isn’t coming up with any words for his open mouth to spit out. He just knows it’s really not a good idea, because he’s pretty sure shotgunning involves two mouths and two pairs of lips and close proximity. 

Louis sits back on Harry’s thighs again, his weight warm and welcome on Harry’s body. He watches Harry with a raised brow as he puffs smoke out of his mouth. “Why not?” he asks, his legs tightening against Harry’s body. 

“Because,” Harry rasps, clearing his throat. “Because I’m with Miranda.”

“Fucking _every one_ knows you’re with her.” Louis rolls his eyes. “Besides, it’s not like we’re going to be making out. It’s just a little fun.”

Harry narrows his eyes at him, feeling like he’s being conned. Really, he’s very interested to see what it feels like to have Louis’ mouth against his own, to feel his soft-looking lips as they glide against his own. He’s probably thought about it more than he really should. Especially since he’s in a relationship and never even kissed another boy before. 

Louis leans closer to him, their foreheads inching closer together. “I won’t tell anyone,” he whispers, poking a finger into Harry’s chest to push him back down onto the mattress. 

He quirks a brow, probably waiting for Harry to say something; to put up a fight and say they really shouldn’t, but Harry can’t get any of those words to come out of his mouth. Instead, he just shakily nods his head, his fingers tightening against Louis’ thighs. Louis leans down further, propping himself up on a forearm next to Harry’s head. They’re so _close_ now – pressed together from their groins up to their chests. Harry’s pretty sure Louis can feel the way his heart is beating against his chest. 

“Deep breaths, alright?” Louis says, using his free hand to bring the joint up to his mouth as Harry inhales deeply to calm himself. “Ready?” Harry nods.

Louis takes a long drag, his lips pursed around the end. He removes the joint from his mouth, settling it between his index and middle finger before he rests his arm down on the other side of Harry’s head, causing their faces to be mere inches away from each other. They watch each other for a heavy beat before Louis is pressing his lips to Harry’s, nudging his lips apart. Harry can barely even process what’s happening, let alone inhale the smoke from Louis’ mouth, so the smoke sort of just sneaks out from between their lips. Harry slowly shifts his mouth, locking their lips together a little tighter, and breathes in the remainder of the smoke from Louis’ mouth.

They break apart with a soft wet sound, their heavy eyes locking together as Harry blows the smoke out with a soft sigh. Louis smiles at him, and Harry can’t stop staring at his wet, shining lips.

“More?” Louis asks in a whisper, his breath shifting Harry’s hair surrounding his face.

Harry nods quickly, reaching a hand to the back on Louis’ head and bring him down to press their lips together more firmly. Louis grunts a sound a surprise, and Harry realizes Louis was probably asking if he wanted to shotgun again, but he doesn’t think Louis minds, especially with the way Louis lays more heavily on him, the fingers of his free hand curling into Harry’s hair as he slips his tongue into Harry’s mouth.

Harry’s mind is practically a pile of mush right now, but the only thought floating through his empty head is _what the fuck am I doing?_


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope this chapter is good. It took me forever to finish it. I'll try to get the next chapter up quicker, and I'm planning on it having actual Larry sexy times. (So if cheating is something you're not comfortable with, you might want to stop reading this fic, sorry.)
> 
> Enjoy xx

When Harry wakes up on Monday, he groans out loud, because he _really_ doesn’t want to go to school.

He hasn’t spoken to Louis since the night of his party after they had had a full-on make out session. It wasn’t even awkward after they had finally broken apart, aside from the fact that they were both a little hard in their swim shorts. They had both dissolved into giggles, the weed they had smoked clearly affecting their heads. They had ended up passing out soon afterward, and Harry drove Louis home once he had slept off most of the alcohol in his system. Louis had given Harry a kiss on the cheek once they had pulled up outside Louis’ house, and Harry had driven home with a warm blush on his cheeks. 

But they haven’t even texted since then, and Harry’s feeling more than a little weird about it. He honestly enjoys Louis’ company; even if they both weren’t clearly attracted to each other, Harry figures Louis would be a good friend to have since he’s charming and funny. Harry pouts as he brushes his teeth, thinking maybe Louis doesn’t want to be friends with him anymore.

His stalemate with Louis has caused Harry to be in a bad mood since Sunday morning, so he hasn’t even really bothered replying to any of Miranda’s texts or answer any of her calls; letting them all go to voicemail. So he’s really not all that surprised when he gets to school and Miranda isn’t waiting for him out front by the fountain like she normally does. He must have pissed her off, but that tends to be happening a lot lately. 

He makes his way to his locker to grab the extra set of gym clothes he keeps in there, since he was so out of it this morning that he had forgotten to pack any. People keep giving him compliments about his party and how _rad_ it was, but Harry can’t do much more than give them all a strained smile and an invite to his next one. He catches a glimpse of Louis’ locker, the stickers on the front of it reminding him of the little dream he had had when he was passed out at the party. Louis is leaning beside it just like he had been in the dream, and Harry momentarily ponders how easy it would be for him to just march right over there and kiss him senseless. But then he sees Miranda standing beside her own locker, and he figures he should go do that to her instead, so he does.

~

Harry walks into gym with a fading-red handprint across his cheek. 

Miranda hadn’t taken him not talking to her so lightly, and shoved him away when he had leaned in to kiss her. She then proceeded to yell at him right in front of God and everybody in the hallway about how inconsiderate he is, and how he had her worried sick by not replying or responding at all. He had cut her off with profuse apologies and excuses about how he was still feeling the after effects of his party, but she wasn’t buying it and continued to shout at him. By that point, Harry had had enough and asked her if she was on her period, or something. 

Which explains the slap mark on his cheek. 

He grumbles his way though gym class, only once – or twice – thinking about how Louis is probably standing out back with Zayn smoking and ditching this class. The class isn’t even outside today, so that makes Harry even more upset, because he doesn’t even have a small chance of catching a glimpse of the other boy. Instead, he’s trapped inside helping bratty freshmen play badminton and answer questions about why his face is red.

Needless to say, his day hasn’t had the greatest of starts.

After lunch, Harry is sat in his trigonometry class, not even paying attention as the teacher drones on about what they’re supposed to be doing, but Harry just keeps scribbling on his notebook. He’s just perfecting his signature when a notebook slaps down onto his desk. He startles and sits back in his chair, gasping when he sees the person in front of him.

“Louis? What are you—”

Louis rolls his eyes and pulls up a chair to sit at Harry’s desk. “If you were paying attention, Ms. Hower wants us to work on problems from the book, and our names are next to each other on the roster. So, we’re partners.”

Harry nods slowly, before snapping out of his daze and clearing off a portion of his desk. “Here, sorry.”

Louis smiles at him as he sits down. “Can we use your book? I forgot mine in my locker.”

“Y-yeah!” Harry stammers, rifling through his backpack on the floor and pulling out his trigonometry textbook. He sets it on his desk in front of Louis. “Did you hear what page the assignment is on? I wasn’t listening...” 

Louis points to some numbers written on the top of his page with his pencil. Harry tilts his head to read the numbers and flips to the correct page. They both start copying down the first problem, their pencils scratching against their paper and students chatting loudly around them. He feels a bit weird being so close to Louis now, considering the last time they were this close they were lip-locked. He peers at Louis from the corner of his eye, watching as he jots down the numbers onto his paper, the tip of his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth. He looks so adorable that Harry momentarily stops writing down the problem.

His halt in movement must catch Louis’ attention, because one second later he’s snapping his head up to look at Harry, most likely catching the way Harry is just staring at him. Harry flushes and mumbles an apology, resolutely looking back down to the textbook, his hand shaky as he continues writing. 

“Is that...did someone slap you?”

Harry’s hand flies to cover his cheek, his shameful eyes turning to Louis. “Is it still that noticeable?”

Louis shrugs. “I probably wouldn’t be able to see it if I weren’t this close to you. What happened?”

Harry looks down to where he’s twirling his pencil between his fingers. “Miranda slapped me,” he mumbles.

Louis gasps so loudly it brings the teacher’s attention towards them, but Louis quickly waves her off with a charming smile. “Are you serious?” Louis whisper-shouts. “Why the fuck did she do that?”

Harry smiles bitterly at Louis’ reaction. “She, um, she was mad that I ignored her over the weekend, I guess.”

Louis body sort of deflates at that, and Harry assumes it’s because they’ve both been sort of ignoring each other, too. Really, Harry should feel guiltier about ignoring his girlfriend than ignoring someone he just met last week. But seeing the way Louis is suddenly so awkward around him is making him feel shittier than when Miranda slapped him this morning. 

“So,” Louis taps his pencil against his bottom lip. “She just _slapped_ you for ignoring her?”

“No. I...I might’ve asked if she was on her period because of how grumpy she was being.”

Louis squawks out a laugh, his hand shooting up to cover his mouth when the teacher shoots them a dirty look. “You can’t...” Louis breaks off into giggles. “You can’t just say something like that to a girl. I grew up with a house full of sisters, so trust me.”

Harry tenderly pets at his sore cheek. “Yeah, I should’ve known better.” He looks up to find Louis watching him with a fond smile, shaking his head. 

They both quirk a brow at each other, small smiles on their faces, like each of them are daring the other to say what’s on their mind. But neither of them says anything, just holding gazes before going back to working on the assignment. Harry thinks it’s amazing how easy and simple their friendship – or whatever this is – has developed. Even after making out at the party, and not talking for a few days, it’s not awkward at all between them like Harry had thought it would be, which was sort of why he had dreaded talking to Louis again. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep himself away, no matter how awkward things became between them. 

They continue jotting down the problems in silence and calculating them out on their own, then checking their answers with each other. Louis is surprisingly good at math; at least, better than what Harry had predicted in his head, and he realizes that probably makes him an asshole for judging Louis based on what he looks like. But who really expects someone with unkempt hair, black skinny jeans, dirty Vans, and a general hatred for anything school-related to be good at math? 

“I still don’t get how you got number twelve.” Harry pouts, throwing his pencil down onto his desk and crossing his arms over his chest.

Louis chuckles at him and moves his seat around so he’s sitting beside Harry, their arms pressed together from elbow to shoulder. He places his notebook in front of Harry and points at his work with his pencil. 

“Okay, so they give you the measurements for the tree shadow and the height of the tree. You can calculate for x by using a-squared plus b-squared equals c-squared, so then you take the square root of your answer and then that’s x. Then to calculate the measurements of the building and its shadow, you have to...”

Louis continues explaining, but Harry is terribly distracted by their proximity and the way Louis’ foot is hooked around his ankle. He’s not even sure if Louis did it on purpose, or if it just sort of happened with their closeness. There’s also the matter of Louis hands; the one grasped around his pencil as he explains, and the other lying flat on the desk, his knuckles looking rough and rugged. Harry subconsciously follows his eyes from Louis’ wrist and up his arm, taking in the lines of tattoos littering the golden skin, and how the skin of his arm looks so _smooth_ Harry wants to get his lips on it. His eyes catch on Louis’ bicep, the way it bulges and relaxes as he moves his hand to point at his paper. He follows the firm line of Louis’ neck, his Adam’s apple moving as he speaks, then his eyes are glued onto Louis’ lips. He hadn’t even realized Louis had stopped talking, until he sees the way that his lips are resting together, a small smirk curling the corner of his mouth, a tiny wrinkle line forming just below the apple of his cheek. 

“Is there something on my face?” Louis asks, his mouth quirking up even more.

Harry gulps and shakes his head, forcing himself to look back down at his paper. “No, you’re good.”

Louis chuckles, light and airy, and thankfully goes back to explaining his work like nothing happened. They continue working on the problems until they’re excused from class and the rest of the work is assigned as homework.

“Hey,” Louis says, grabbing Harry’s elbow as he’s trying to put his backpack on. “Do you want to work on the homework together? We make a pretty good problem-solving team.” He grins, and Harry immediately knows there’s no way he can deny that face.

“Yeah, sure,” Harry agrees. “But, uh, I have baseball practice right now until six. So...”

Louis waves a dismissive hand. “That’s fine. I’ll just hang out in the art class with Zayn until then. He likes to stay after and work on projects he’s too shy to work on in class.”

“Why is he shy?”

“I guess he feels bad when people see his work because it’s so much better than everyone else’s; my words, not his.”

“Ah, I see,” Harry chuckles. “But yeah, that’s fine. Do you want to ride with me to my house, or do you have a car?”

“I have a car. _But_ its engine light has been on since last week and I really don’t know what’s wrong with it, so I don’t want to drive it somewhere and risk getting stranded.”

Harry nods along seriously; watching the way Louis explains his vehicle situation while flapping his hands around and gesturing with his arms. It’s a bit all-over-the-place and Harry can just imagine Louis as an over-excited little kid, wreaking havoc everywhere he goes as him mom tries to restrain him. It makes Harry crack a smile before Louis has even finished speaking.

“That’s alright, I don’t mind driving us – I have to drive home anyway. I just wasn’t sure how you felt about waiting here for three hours.”

Louis wraps an arm around Harry’s shoulders, leading him out of the classroom and down the hall toward the gym. “I don’t mind,” he says. “It gives me time to make a mess of the art room and maybe draw some penises in permanent marker on the whiteboard, but disguise them as cats.”

Harry cackles, imaging Mister Bryan – the art teacher – erasing the innocent cats off the board only to be left with a bunch of penises. “Please,” he gasps. “Please do that. And have Zayn film his reaction, or something. It will be perfect.”

Louis’ face is lit up when Harry looks over at him, his eyes bright and a large smile on his face. It’s almost like he’s shocked and amazed by Harry’s reaction to his prank. Harry nudges him in the ribs when they reach the doors to the gym, and Louis removes his arm from around Harry’s shoulders. 

“Well, this is my stop,” Harry murmurs, watching Louis fiddle with the straps of his backpack.

“Right,” Louis nods. “Practice and all that. Let me know when you’re done and I’ll meet you by your car.”

“Sure, yeah.” Harry chews his lip for a moment, locking eyes with Louis for a moment, before he’s ducking down and kissing Louis on the cheek before he can think any better. “See you later,” he blurts, hurriedly spinning around the shoving his way through the door leading into the gym. 

He presses himself up against the wall, making sure Louis can’t see him through the small window in the door. It takes him a moment to catch his breath, because he didn’t even check the hall before he just kissed Louis like that, and guys shouldn’t be kissing other guys on the cheek like that. He cranes his head around to peek out the window, seeing Louis walking away from him down the hall. Suddenly Louis is turning his head to look back at him, clearly catching Harry watching him. Harry drops down to his knees to get out of the view of the window. He’s stays there for a moment to let Louis walk further away, but to also think about what the hell he’s doing. 

He’s acting like such an idiot, and he didn’t realize someone like Louis Tomlinson could turn him into this awkward human being who doesn’t know how to act in front of cute boys. Well, at least he’s now capable of admitting to himself that he finds Louis attractive.

One small step for normal people, one giant leap for Harry Styles. 

~

Practice went smoothly enough; although, Harry was still a little distracted by the thoughts of Louis swirling through his head. 

He had managed to work out any awkwardness he had felt in the locker room with the other boys, and decided to strip down like he normally does and take a shower with his team. He had just done a quick wash and scrub of his hair and body, because he was honestly a little excited about Louis coming over to his house.

He exits the locker room in record time; the rest of the team still shouting and hollering in the showers, and a few stragglers just barely getting out of their uniforms. His duffle bag is heavy on his shoulder as he tries to adjust the straps of his backpack to dig his car keys out of the pocket. Just as he gets his phone out to tell Louis he’s finished with practice, he quickly spots the boy in question leaning against his car; what appears to be a cigarette or a blunt hanging from his fingers. 

He approaches Louis slowly, purposefully scuffing his sneakers against the pavement so Louis looks up at him, and when he does, Harry is still blown away by how blue his eyes are, and how good he looks with his furrowed brow and messy hair.

“Hey,” Harry greets. As he gets closer, realizing Louis is actually smoking weed from the smell filling the air around them. Louis nods his head in greeting before taking a long drag. “Something wrong?” Harry asks. “I thought you were going to wait in the art room.”

Louis shrugs, going to drop the remainder of the joint to the ground, but Harry snatches it away and takes a quick pull from it; making Louis stare at him in wonder and amusement. 

“Zayn was being an asshole today,” Louis explains, eyes focused on Harry’s lips as he blows out the smoke from his lungs. “So I decided to just wait out here.”

Harry nods, taking another drag as he steps closer to Louis, dropping the blunt to the ground. Their eyes are locked as their faces inch closer and closer together. Harry’s heart is thudding in his chest, wondering just what the hell he’s doing. He waits until their lips are nearly touching, Louis’ soft lips parted in invitation, but Harry stops moving forward and just releases the smoke against Louis’ lips. They watch each other quietly, some of the smoke slipping in between Louis’ lips as he inhales sharply.

“Well,” Harry chirps, pulling away and unlocking his car, shoving his bags in the backseat. “Let’s get going. We’ve still got a bunch of problems to solve, partner.”

Louis chuckles, shaking his head as he climbs into the passenger seat, “You make us sound like some sort of crime-fighting duo.”

“Hey. Difficult math problems should be a crime.”

They grin goofily at each other as Harry starts the car, driving them out of the parking lot and down the winding road toward his house. Harry’s house a bit on the other side of town, closer to the lakeside, so it’s going to take them a while to get there. Harry decides to order some Chinese takeout on the way, having Louis call-in and order whatever he wants, and to not worry about how much it’s going to cost. Which, Harry realizes is probably giving Louis too much power, because he seems to order the whole menu before he hangs up.

“Did they say how much all of that is going to cost?” Harry glances over as Louis shakes his head, smiling.

“They’ll tell you when they deliver. Just think of it as a _surprise_.”

Harry grumbles, but smiles nonetheless. 

The rest of the drive is in comfortable silence, except for the occasional conversation about Louis’ day, or how Harry’s practice went. They’re pulling into the driveway sooner than Harry had expected; realizing the drive went by super fast with him having someone to talk to. Louis grabs Harry’s backpack from the backseat, leaving Harry only having to deal with his heavy duffle. After they’ve toed off their shoes, Harry leaves Louis in the foyer while he goes to the laundry room to drop off his duffle full of smelly uniforms and gym clothes. 

“Do you want a drink?” He asks, padding back down the hall and toward the doorway connecting the foyer to the kitchen. “I have juice, water, soda...”

“What kind of soda?”

“I might have some Dr. Pepper and Sprite left over from the party.” 

“I’ll have a Sprite, thanks.”

Harry gets himself a glass of water and they watch each other as they take sips of their beverages. It feels weird to have Louis in his house. Like, he’s used to seeing him in the halls at school, but having him wandering the halls in his house just feels odd. Especially since they don’t really know each other that well, except for the fact that they both go to the same school and like parties. 

“You have a nice place,” Louis comments, walking over to the large, ceiling-to-floor sliding glass door in the living room. “Great view of the lake from here.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s not so bad.”

Louis rolls his eyes at him. “Okay, Mister Range-Rover-Yacht-Party-Lake-House.”

Harry pouts. He hates it when his friends – or just anyone, really – brings up the subject of money or the things he owns. It makes him feel guilty like he’s done something wrong. And he hates it.

“So,” he clears his throat. “You wanna set up camp down here? My dad isn’t coming home today, so he won’t interrupt us with typical dad nonsense.”

Louis chuckles dryly. “Nah, I prefer smaller environments. Can we go to your room?”

“Sure.” Harry nods, grabbing his backpack from where Louis placed it on the dining table. 

“Am I allowed to bring my drink?”

“No. I want you to die of dehydration.”

“Hey! I don’t know how you rich-type operate.”

Harry cringes internally, but gives Louis a teasing smile. He leads Louis upstairs; showing him around a bit, before taking him to his room. There are clothes scattered across his bed from this morning when he couldn’t decide what to wear, and Harry’s eyes nearly pop out of his head when he sees the bottle of lube sitting on his dresser. He waits until Louis is distracted by discovering the balcony to discretely tuck it away into his nightstand. 

“Your dad let you have the master bedroom?” Louis keeps wandering around the room, and Harry feels even weirder about having Louis in his _bedroom_ , let alone his house. 

“He’s hardly here, anyway, and he offered.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s a traveling doctor. Like, the ‘ _doctors without borders_ ’ deal. He’s always in a different state or a different country. I can’t keep track.”

Louis sets himself on Harry’s bed once Harry has put all of his clothes away and made up the sheets. “That must suck, huh?” Louis asks, sipping quietly at his can of Sprite. 

Harry shrugs. “It used to bother me a lot,” he says, while sitting cross-legged in front of Louis on his bed, but it’s so large they could practically fit three more people between them. “Around the time my mom left, I um, I would get really upset when he would leave. I would ask him if he was planning on leaving me, too, like she did. I would cry for hours after he left, and then cry some more when I would remember he was gone. I would get so lonely in this giant house, even with the maids here since most of them only spoke French, so it’s not like I could’ve even talked to them about anything, and I guess my dad figured giving me a nice number in my bank account would make everything better...” Harry chuckles, shaking his head, and glances up to Louis. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I’m sorry.”

“No no no!” Louis quickly scoots across the bed so he’s sitting directly in front of Harry and picks up his hands in his own, looking him in the eye. “Don’t, _please_ don’t apologize. You obviously needed to get it off your chest, and I’m glad you feel comfortable enough with me to tell me things. My friends never tell me anything, bunch of heartless bastards.”

Harry snickers, tucking his chin down to his chest, his cheeks pinking. “I’ve just never...I haven’t really told anyone about what happened with my mom, or even about what my dad does for a living. I don’t – I don’t know why I’m suddenly just telling you.” He looks at Louis from under his lashes. “I feel different when I’m around you.”

“Different?” Louis asks in barely above a whisper, his eyes searching Harry’s.

Harry closes his eyes and sighs. “I feel...good. Like, free, you know. Like I can just say or do anything and not be judged for it. Like...” he opens his eyes again, meeting Louis’ stare, whispering, “Like you understand me better than anyone else, even though we’ve known each other for not even a week.”

Louis squeezes Harry’s hands in his own, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “I feel the same way with you,” he whispers. “It’s different with you, but...but I like it.”

Harry nods slowly, his eyes glancing down to Louis’ lips then back up to his eyes. He doesn’t even realize they’re leaning toward each other, now, but soon he feels Louis’ breath grazing his lips, and he shuts his eyes automatically, his lips parting on a sigh. He feels Louis let go of his hands, but soon there’s a hand sliding up his inner thigh and one pushing into his hair.

The doorbell rings suddenly, echoing throughout the vaulted ceilings of the house, and causing Harry and Louis to pull away from each other, breathing heaving and eyes glazed. After a minute of sitting, dumbstruck, and another ring of the doorbell, Harry remembers the food they ordered. He curses softly and clambers out of bed, combing a hand through his hair and grabbing his wallet from his dresser.

He doesn’t even look at Louis before he leaves his room, suddenly feeling awkward and ashamed for almost kissing Louis again while he’s still in a relationship with Miranda. He hasn’t even spoken to her since this morning when she slapped him, and really, contacting her is the last thing on his mind when he has Louis Tomlinson in his bed. 

~

“How did you solve it already? I thought we couldn’t figure out the left angle.”

“I just put five in for c.” Harry shows Louis his paper and rolls his eyes like _duh_.

“Where did the five come from?”

Harry shrugs. 

“You can’t just add random numbers in!” Louis cackles, balling up Harry’s paper and throwing it at his head. 

Harry pouts and un-wrinkles his paper, staring at his mess of work. “But I had finally solved it.”

“Putting in a random number and solving to get another random number doesn’t mean you solved it.” Louis erases a bunch of work on his paper and scribbles down some numbers. 

Harry grabs the last eggroll and eats it in three bites, then he proceeds to reach over and wipe his greasy fingers right across Louis’ paper. Louis shouts, staring at Harry like he just murdered his entire family. Harry tries to restrain his laughter, but can’t help the spell of giggles that tumble out of his mouth.

“What the fuck was that for?” Louis growls, punching Harry in the thigh.

“Ow,” Harry says around laughter, the word coming out choppy as he holds his thigh. “You crumpled up my paper, so it’s only fair.”

“I crumpled it because your work was trash,” Louis grumbles, grabbing a new sheet of paper to transfer all of his work over. 

Harry gasps, too dramatically to be taken seriously. “That wounds me, Louis.” He falls back onto his bed clutching at his chest. “This has just become my death bed. My last words shall be... You have a great ass.” He lets his body go limp as he acts dead.

“If this if how you act when you’re high, I’m never letting you smoke again.”

“I’m not high,” Harry giggles. “I’m _dead_ , so say some nice things about me, and, like, cool things I did while I was alive.”

“Here lies Harry,” Louis says, tone serious. “Who died a complete idiot who couldn’t even manage to not spill soy sauce all over his own bed.”

Harry laughs loudly at that as he sits up, he leans over and wraps his arms around Louis’ shoulders, pressing his face into Louis’ neck. “That was so sweet. Thank you.”

Louis pats his head, sighing, “You should be thanking me for changing your sheets for you, idiot.”

“Thanks for that, too, Boo.” Harry snorts out a laugh. “Too boo.”

“We barely even smoked. Why are you acting like this?”

Harry pulls away from Louis and collapses onto his back next to him. “I’m not acting like anything. You’re the one being mean and calling me names. Maybe you should smoke some more.”

That leads to them smoking a whole blunt more, except Harry barely gets any of it, but he’s fine just watching Louis puff smoke from his mouth and his nose, his eyes getting more glazed over as he continues to smoke.

“You’re like a sexy dragon,” Harry says, completely serious.

Louis giggles, now lying down beside Harry. “You think I’m sexy?”

Harry grins. “I never said that.”

“Yeah you did.”

“Prove it.” 

Harry’s body melts when Louis’ lips are suddenly pressing against his own, their lips sliding together smoothly. He tangles his fingers into Louis’ hair, not letting him pull away. Harry tilts his head, kissing Louis deeper and parting his lips to allow Louis’ tongue entrance. They’re both breathing heavily though their noses, occasionally pulling back only long enough to catch their breath. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Harry curses, titling his head back when Louis begins kissing at his neck. 

“You think I’m sexy now?” Louis breathes against the tender skin beneath Harry’s ear.

Harry whines, nodding his head, using his hands in Louis’ hair to pull him back to his lips. “Yeah – _shit_ – yeah, you are.”

Louis grins against his mouth while maneuvering himself to lie on top of Harry, his lower body settling between Harry’s legs. Louis bites Harry’s lower lip at the same moment he thrusts their hips together. Harry gasps, his hands tightening in Louis’ hair and his back arching off the bed. He can feel the way Louis is hard in his jeans, and he assumes Louis can feel the same about him. 

Louis goes back to kissing along Harry’s neck, so Harry takes the opportunity to wrap his legs around Louis’ waist and flipping them over so he’s on top and straddling Louis’ hips. Louis stares up at him, hair messy and lips shiny. They’re both panting and Harry can’t help the movement of his hips against Louis’ groin. 

“Look so good,” Louis murmurs, fingers gripping at Harry’s waist. “Look like you’ve done this before.”

Harry shakes his head, biting his lip. “I’ve never—just you, only you.”

Louis smiles at that, lifting his hips to meet Harry’s movements. “How do you want me?”

“I don’t—I don’t know,” Harry stammers, clutching his hands against Louis’ pecs. 

“Shh,” Louis coos. “It’s alright. We don’t have to do anything if you’re not comfortable.”

“I want to.”

“Okay.” Louis nods. “Why don’t you lie on your back, alright? And strip down to your boxers.”

Harry nods and quickly removes himself from on top of Louis to go lie down on the other side of the bed, peeling off his jeans and t-shirt in the process. He props himself up against the pillows, and watches as Louis takes his own clothes off, slowly revealing expanses of golden skin and a littering of black ink. He swallows thickly when Louis starts crawling up from the foot of the bed with a dark look in his eyes as he openly stares at Harry’s body. Harry can’t help but to try and cover his body with his arms, but Louis immediately shakes his head, so Harry keeps his arms by his sides, his fists clenching.

Louis crawls in between Harry’s legs, nudging his thighs further apart before settling completely on top of Harry. Their groins and stomachs are pressed together, and Harry lets out a pleased sigh, returning his trembling hands into Louis’ hair.

“You okay?” Louis asks, propping up on one forearm and combing his free hand through Harry’s hair.

Harry nods. “Kiss?”

Louis smiles at him and ducks down to peck his lips once, twice, three times. He moves his kisses to the corner of Harry’s mouth, then along his jaw and up to his ear, then down his neck to his collar bones, repeating the process backwards on the other side so he finishes back at Harry’s mouth, where he presses a suckling kiss to his lower lip. Harry mewls when Louis starts rutting against him, their erections slotting together as Louis’ thrusts against him. It feels much more different without the layers of denim between them, plus the warm press of Louis’ naked chest against his own is enough to make his brain fuzzy. Harry vaguely registers Louis saying something, but he’s so lost in sensations that he ignores it, completely focusing on the pleasure of everything that seems to be happening all at once. 

“Harry,” Louis repeats. “Your phone is ringing.”

Harry groans, pulling Louis into a kiss. “Just ignore it,” he murmurs against Louis’ lips. 

Louis starts moving his hips faster, and Harry finds himself thrusting his hips up to meet Louis’ movements. 

“Oh God, Louis,” he groans, pressing his head back into the pillow as he arches his back to press further against Louis. 

“Your phone’s ringing again,” Louis sighs, his hips slowing. 

Harry huffs. “See who it is, please.”

Louis’ hips halt completely as he stretches his body across the bed to reach Harry’s phone on the nightstand. He settles back on his knees in between Harry’s legs, phone in hand. Louis glances up at him, eyes wide, then back down to his phone.

“Who’s it?” 

“It’s—it’s Miranda.”

Harry stops breathing and sits up, grabbing his phone from Louis’ hand. Miranda’s face is lit up on the screen, and Harry’s stomach drops. His mouth falls open as he tries to think of something to tell Louis. He carefully swings his legs from around Louis’ body and stands out of bed.

“I’ll be right back,” he croaks, giving Louis an apologetic and embarrassed look. 

“No, it’s okay.” Louis quickly removes himself from the bed and begins pulling on his clothes. “I should...I should go, anyways.”

Harry nods dumbly, a sharp pain growing in his chest. “Right, yeah. Sure.” He sets his phone on his bed – deciding he’ll call Miranda back – and pulls on his own clothes, adamantly ignoring his aching dick. He helps Louis pack up his notebooks and awkwardly leads him downstairs. “Do you need a ride?” he asks, just now remembering that he drove Louis here.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll catch a bus or something.”

Harry opens the front door and sighs, Louis stepping around him onto the front porch. “I’m sorry...about all that.”

Louis shrugs, a small smile on his face. “No need to apologize. Unless you feel bad about what happened?”

Harry glances down to his feet, a smile spreading on his lips as he shakes his head.

“Right,” Louis says. “I guess I’ll be seeing you.”

Harry looks up at him and nods, staring in awe as Louis grabs one of Harry’s hands and presses a kiss to his knuckles. He can feel a blush growing on his cheeks when Louis winks at him before turning away and making his way down the steps of the porch. He stares after Louis’ receding form, until it’s no longer visible down the long stretch of road. Then he stares at the spot where Louis’ body disappeared until the sprinklers in his yard turn on, and he retreats back into his house, closing the door with a hollow click. 

He realizes the sharp chest pains he was feeling earlier were most likely related to the heart attack that Louis is bound to give him eventually.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy xx

Harry’s never been very good at confrontations; especially when it involves someone being mad at him and not the other way around. 

After Louis left his house on Monday, Harry had taken a moment to calm his breathing and heart rate before he called Miranda back. She had proceeded to apologize for slapping him, and had asked him to meet up with her at a coffee shop nearby so they could talk. Harry had been so tempted to just tell her he wasn’t feeling well and that he was just going to head to bed, but then Miranda started begging him to meet up with her, and Harry isn’t very strong against people who beg.

So they had met up and talked. Or rather, Miranda talked while Harry sipped on his hot chocolate and listened, nodding along at the right moments and reaching over to grab her hand when he felt it was necessary. Harry’s still not exactly clear on everything that Miranda had brought up, but he remembers her saying something about wanting them to work out their problems together, and to not just ignore each other and argue all the time. Harry had agreed, because he likes Miranda, really, and he’s willing to do anything, as long as it makes her happy. Harry just likes making people happy. 

Now, after his discussion with Miranda, it seems as if they’re always together, which is probably normal for other couples, but Harry doesn’t like the limitation of always hanging out and being around the same person. He needs a break sometimes; some time to himself. But Miranda seems to be thinking the exact opposite; from having Harry pick her up before school so they can go together, to meeting up between classes, even if it’s only for a quick kiss hello and goodbye. She’s even started going to Harry’s practices after school to just sit on the bleachers and cheer whenever she thinks Harry has done something good. She’s also started staying at his place more often than not, and although Harry enjoys a good daily blowjob just like every other guy, he’s starting to feel like he can’t even breathe with how much time he’s spending with Miranda. He hasn’t even had any free time to text Louis or even just hang out with him, and they haven’t been assigned any group work in trigonometry this week, so it’s making this entire situation even worse. 

It’s after school on Friday when Harry finally sees Louis again. Harry’s baseball practice was cancelled because of the rainstorm that hit during last hour, and they are unable to play on the field. Harry would normally be upset about not being able to practice because he likes hanging out with his team and working together to get better. But today, Harry can’t even bring himself to be upset about it, because Miranda just texted him as he’s walking out of trigonometry, saying she won’t be able to come over today because she’s tutoring some freshman. Harry almost squeals in delight, but he texts back a sad face emoji instead. 

Outside, he spots Louis a few yards away by the fountain out front, talking to Zayn. Zayn is gesturing quite a bit with his hands, and Louis is just hanging his head, allowing Zayn to lecture at him. Harry feels worry bubble up in his gut, and he fights the urge to break out into a sprint once Zayn walks away from Louis. It’s still raining outside, so Harry tugs the hood of his jacket over his head before leaving the cover of the awning. 

Louis is sitting on the edge of the fountain when Harry approaches, and suddenly Harry’s body is on edge with the need to just reach out and grab Louis and pull him close, soaking in the presence of his body that Harry’s been missing for the past week. Louis looks up at him when Harry comes to a stop by his feet. They lock eyes, and Louis must notice something in Harry’s, because in the next moment he’s on his feet and grabbing at Harry’s arm, a worried look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Louis asks, voice hushed.

Harry bites his lip as he glances around the parking lot. The last car is just pulling out of the lot, leaving Harry’s vehicle the only one there. Harry doesn’t even turn back to look at Louis as he grabs Louis’ hand and drags him over to his car. He quickly unlocks it and shoves their backpacks into the passenger seat, then opens the backseat and crawls inside, pulling Louis in on top of him. Harry hooks the toe of his boot into the door handle and pulls the door shut.

Harry connects his lips to Louis’ hungrily, his hands roaming over Louis body like he’s forgotten what it felt like; it’s much better than how his mind had allowed him to remember. Louis kisses him back with the same amount of vigor, sucking at Harry’s lips and tugging at his hair. Harry mewls, tilting his head back against the seat, allowing Louis full access to kiss at his neck.

“I missed you,” Harry breathes, legs hooking around Louis’ thighs when he starts rutting against him. 

“Missed you too, baby,” Louis murmurs, wet lips sliding against Harry’s earlobe. “Missed you so much.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry gasps, Louis pulling away to begin tugging off Harry’s jeans. “Sorry for not texting or—or calling. Just Mir-Miranda kept showing up every time—”

“Shh,” Louis coos, sliding his hands up Harry’s shirt once he’s gotten his boots and jeans removed. He rubs softly at Harry’s hips and belly, making Harry want to purr like a kitten. “You don’t need to apologize, or try to explain yourself. I understand.” He punctuates his statement by grabbing at Harry’s stiffening cock through his briefs, pressing firmly against the base. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Harry groans, his hips bucking automatically into the welcomed friction. He’s completely forgotten what he was even talking about, but it doesn’t even matter any more. 

“What do you want?” Louis asks, kneeling between Harry’s legs as he continues to palm him. 

“Wanna...” Harry shakes his head, his mind dizzy with the sensation of actually having Louis touching him after what felt like years. 

“Want me to blow you?”

Harry shakes his head even quicker. “No no. Wanna—Can I?”

Louis quirks a brow. “You wanna blow yourself? I mean...you can try. I’d really like to watch.”

Harry squeezes his thighs firmly against Louis’ hips. “Shut up. Oh my God,” he groans. “I meant I wanna suck you, you idiot.”

“Only because you asked so nicely,” Louis simpers, leaning back until he settles against the car door and his legs are spread in invitation. 

Harry is quick to move, noticing how Louis is straining against the fly of his jeans. He kneels between Louis’ legs, and pops the button of his jeans, dragging the zipper down slowly. Louis hisses at the sensation, his cock tenting the fabric of his boxers through the opening of his jeans. Harry’s mouth starts to water, and he barely registers his hand moving down to cup himself through his briefs. 

Probably noticing the state Harry is in at the moment, Louis assists in tugging his jeans and briefs further down his thighs, his cock finally freed. The sight nearly makes Harry’s throat close up, because Louis’ is big; well, he’s not _huge_ , but he’s not small either, and Harry sort of just remembered that he’s never given a blow job before, so why the hell did he just offer so freely. 

“Okay?” Louis asks, voice soft as he strokes a tender hand down Harry’s heated cheek. “We don’t have to do anything, Harry.”

“No, no,” Harry croaks, his brow sweaty. “I want to, it’s just... I’ve never—never done this before.” He gestures toward Louis’ cock with his hand. 

“It’s okay,” Louis says, and when Harry looks up at him, he’s got this fond look on his face that makes Harry surge forward and kiss him. “Just take your time,” Louis murmurs when they pull apart. 

Harry chews on his lip and glances down to Louis’ cock. It looks similar to his own, Harry thinks. Not much difference aside from the skin tone and the shape of the head. He reaches out for it and tentatively wraps his fingers around it, mouth dropping in awe when Louis’ head tilts back to rest on the window, a groan leaving his lips. Harry looks back down to his hand, pumping it up and down slightly. He’s not at all surprised it feels like he’s just jerking himself, except he’s not the one who’s feeling the pleasure from it. He figures this is something he’s comfortable with, stroking Louis firmly in his grip, just thinking about what he likes done to himself when he gets off. 

“Oh...” Louis moans, the heavenly sound filling the small space around them. 

Harry lowers himself so he’s lying on his stomach against Louis’ straight legs, one of his legs hanging off the seat so his groin is pressed right against the inside of Louis’ calf muscle, working his hips slightly to create some much-needed friction. He slows his hand slightly, watching Louis’ cock slide in the circle of his fist. Louis’ is steadily leaking precome, getting all over Harry’s hand, but it helps the movement of his hand so he doesn’t really mind. 

He startles a little when Louis’ hand threads through the hair on the side of his head, his thumb soothingly rubbing at Harry’s temple. Harry leans into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut as his hips work a bit quicker against Louis’ leg. 

“Lou,” he groans, fist pumping faster over Louis’ cock. “Does it—does it feel good?”

Louis hums, deep in his throat, when Harry swipes his thumb over the head of Louis’ cock. “Oh, baby,” he murmurs, his own hips beginning to thrust toward Harry’s hand. “Feels so good. So good, baby.”

Harry’s face heats at the comment, or maybe it’s just from Louis calling him _baby_. He’s never been called ‘baby’ before, unless it was someone – probably Liam – making fun of him and calling him a baby. Miranda only ever calls him _babe_ , but that’s basically what all couples call each other. _Baby_ , though, _baby_ has some sentiment behind it, especially with the way Louis says it, his pretty mouth molding around the word, making Harry’s insides melt. 

With a sudden burst of affection for the boy sitting in front of him, Harry ducks his head down and carefully licks at the head of Louis’ cock, his face twisting up slightly at the bitter taste of precome. Louis chuckles at him, his hand still massaging against his scalp. Harry pouts, not really liking being laughed at at a time like this, when he’s about to do something he finds so scary he can feel his throat tightening up with anxiety. 

He goes down again, this time with his mouth open, making sure his lips cover his teeth. He barely gets Louis into his mouth, feeling the velvet-like skin of the underside of his cock rubbing against his tongue, then he’s pulling back, suddenly overwhelmed with exactly what’s going on – he’s giving someone a blow job. _Louis_... He’s giving Louis a blow job and jerking him off right in his car while Miranda tutors freshmen, having no idea about what her boyfriend is up to right now. But then, she also has no idea about what her boyfriend is going through; the nagging feeling in his brain telling him he might like boys; he might like boys a lot, enough to go down on them in the backseat of his car while he still has a girlfriend. 

He attempts taking Louis into his mouth again, getting him further in than last time, but still unable to go no more than a third of the way. He pulls back again, overwhelmed, feeling tears bursting in his eyes, because he really has no idea what’s going on now. He pulls away completely, sitting himself on the opposite end of the seats, and covering his face, embarrassed. 

“I’m sorry,” he cries, shaking his head. “I don’t—I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Baby,” Louis coos, making Harry’s insides twist as he sobs. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

There’s a shuffle and the sounds of jeans being zipped up before Louis is pressing up against Harry’s side, slouching down a bit to wrap his arms around Harry’s chest. Harry removes his hands from his face to wrap his arms around Louis’ neck, pressing his tear-soaked face into his shoulder. _It’s okay_ , Louis is whispering, but Harry feels anything but okay. He feels like he’s just had some sort of life-changing epiphany about something that’s been building up inside of him for who-knows how long. 

“I’m sorry,” he cries again, his sobs calming just a bit. “I don’t—don’t think I’m ready for that, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Louis says again, one hand petting at the back of Harry’s head. “I should’ve known we were moving too fast. I mean, you’re _Harry Styles_ , the straight jock with the hot girlfriend. I should’ve known you’ve most likely never done something like this. I’m sorry if I pressured you into it.”

“No,” Harry gasps, pulling back enough to look at Louis; pretty sure his face is covered in tears and snot. “You—you didn’t pressure me into anything. I wanted this...I want _you_ ,” he chokes out, dropping his chin to his chest and wrapping his arms around his stomach. “That’s...that’s the problem. I want you, Louis,” he whispers, “I want you, but I feel like I shouldn’t.”

“It must be pretty crazy for you,” Louis murmurs, allowing Harry to have his space, but still keeping a hand on his thigh. “But, you must’ve had _some_ idea that you had these kinds of feelings for guys, right?”

Harry shrugs, glancing up at Louis. “I guess I’ve always found other guys attractive, but I never had the thought to actually do something about it. I feel like...like everyone sees me as the _hot jock_ of the school, so obviously I have to have a hot girlfriend like Miranda. And it’s not like I don’t like her, I just never thought about dating a guy instead. I never really...never had someone to talk about all these confusing feelings with.”

“You can talk to me about anything, Harry,” Louis says firmly, gripping at Harry’s thigh. “And I’ll always be here for you. I know our friendship is sort of unconventional and unexpected, but I really like having you as a friend, and I want to support you whenever you decide to come out.”

Harry’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. _Come out._ No...he can’t. He can’t do that. Not with everyone’s eyes on him all the time. The other baseball teams already think he’s gay and incapable of being a decent pitcher. He can’t give them even more reason to talk trash when it’s revealed that they were right the whole time. 

“Babe,” Louis shakes his shoulder. “Breathe, Harry.”

Harry then realizes he’s gasping for breath, his chest rising and falling quickly. He grasps at Louis’ forearms, bracing himself as he gulps air into his lungs. He hasn’t had a panic attack since freshman year during his first baseball game, but he’s not really surprised he’s having one now. Just thinking about breaking up with Miranda and coming out to the entire school fills his chest with a cloud of fear and anxiety. 

He focuses on Louis’ breathing, attempting to match his breaths. 

“There we go,” Louis says, allowing Harry to nearly crush his forearms in his fists. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry gasps. “This is just a lot for me right now. Do you think we could...like, just kiss for now? Like, the whole idea of doing more with you is great, but then when I actually try it...I just get so overwhelmed, sorry.”

“It’s fine, Harry,” Louis smiles sweetly at him, petting at his arms. “We can do whatever you’re comfortable with.” He leans in and gently presses a kiss to Harry’s lips, pulling back just enough to look at him. 

“You know... You’re a lot sweeter than I thought you would be,” Harry confesses, smiling softly.

“Oh?” Louis quirks a brow at him, moving a hand up to grip at the hair on the back of Harry’s head, causing Harry to gasp softly, eyes widening. “Would you rather me be rough with you, hm?” He tugs gently at Harry’s hair, just testing the waters.

Harry’s head jerks back with the movement, his neck bared to Louis’ mouth. He nods as best he can, hands braced against Louis’ chest.

“Yeah? Rough and mean... Is that how you want me?”

Harry clenches his eyes shut, a thrill trembling down his spine, making him shiver. “Yes,” he whispers, instantly feeling Louis’ hand tighten in his hair and teeth biting into his neck. 

He does his best to push the worries out of his mind, allowing Louis’ entirety to fill his senses. He doesn’t hear his phone vibrating in his jeans that are crumpled up in the floorboard, but he does hear the tapping on the window above his head.

The both jump away from each other, Harry’s head knocking against the window where the tapping came from. He grabs at the back of his head as he tries to peer out the window, but all of the glass is now fogged up from the body heat inside the vehicle and the cold air outside. He can barely make out the silhouette of a body that looks like a girl.

“Shit,” he mumbles. “I think it’s Miranda.”

There’s another tapping against the window as he tugs his jeans back on, pulling out his phone and noticing the several missed calls and texts from Miranda. _Shit_. He glances over at Louis, who is currently attempting to fix his hair into some kind of order. He takes in a deep breath before he opens the door, figuring there’s no escaping it. 

“Hey,” he greets Miranda, squinting out into the slight rain fall. He hopes his face isn’t as flushed as it feels. 

She glares up at him, then passed him to see Louis sitting on the other side of the car. Her eyes flash before she’s sliding her gaze back to Harry, arms crossed over her chest.

“Why didn’t you answer any of my calls?”

Harry gulps, scratching at his neck. “I, uh... My phone was on silent, sorry.”

“Uh huh, okay. Well I just got done tutoring, and I was going to tell you I’m going to your house, but... What are you two doing out here, anyway?”

“We...” Harry looks over to Louis, who subtly shrugs at him. “It’s cold out, and Louis said he was waiting for Zayn to pick him up, so I figured we could wait in here, where it’s warmer.”

Miranda looks at him, suspicious. “I saw Zayn leaving when I was walking over here.”

“Oh,” Harry says, shocked, looking wide-eyed at Louis. “Well, I guess I should drive him home, then.” He shrugs, turning back to Miranda, who still doesn’t look like she’s buying any of this. “And, um, we were assigned some Trig homework, so we’ll just work on it at Louis’. I don’t know when we’ll be done.”

Miranda suddenly looks hurt, shifting her gaze down to her feet. “Alright, well maybe I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Harry nods, feeling like shit. He climbs out of the car and wraps Miranda in his arms, pressing her to his chest. “Love you,” he whispers.

She smiles at him, but it’s odd. “Love you, too.”

He leans down and kisses her once before she turns away toward the other student parking lot. He watches her walk away, the slight slump of her shoulders as the rain continues to fall. He turns back to his car and shuts the back door, climbing into the driver’s seat. Louis joins him in the passenger seat, placing their bags in the back.

“Well that was awkward,” Louis states, giving Harry a small smile. 

Harry gives him a pathetic smile and starts the car, flicking on the windshield wipers. They drive in silence, just the whispers of songs from the radio providing sound. Harry drives to Louis’ house from memory, his hands automatically steering him in the right direction. They pull up out front, and Harry unlocks the car doors, shutting off the car.

“Why are you getting out?” Louis asks. “We don’t really have Trig homework, do we?”

Harry shakes his head slowly. “No. I was just... I don’t know. I thought we could hang out some more.”

“Oh. I thought you were just using that as an excuse for Miranda to not go to your house.”

“I did,” he confesses. “But I’d rather be here with you, than go back to my empty house.”

“Oh.”

Harry bites his lip, feeling foolish. “You know, I can just go home, it’s alright.”

“No, no,” Louis rushes. “It’s just... My mom’s home, and all my sisters.” He shrugs one shoulder, looking embarrassed.

“That’s okay. I wouldn’t mind meeting them. Plus, it’s not like we’re going to need any privacy.” He pouts, mad at himself for preventing himself from being able to do anything sexual with Louis. 

Louis chuckles. “Yeah, alright. Come on, then.”

The house is a mess when they walk in, and Harry’s pretty sure he’s never heard a child scream louder in his entire life. He winces against the sound, but can’t fight the smile on his face when Louis starts yelling just as loud, immediately making the child stop screaming. Then there are feet pattering down the stairs and Louis is soon trampled by two squealing girls. 

“Lou’s home!” one of them yells, or _screeches_ , rather. 

“Who is this?” the other one asks, letting go of Louis’ leg to stare up at Harry.

“This is my friend Harry,” Louis says, smiling all squinty-eyed as the two girls flock Harry instead.

“Hi,” Harry greets, waving at them.

“You have girl hair,” the one with slightly darker hair says.

Harry’s mouth drops open as Louis cackles.

“Girls,” Louis says, steering them around the corner and further into the house. “Leave Harry alone, alright? You can make fun of him later.” He throws a grin over his shoulder at Harry. 

Louis leads them into the kitchen, where an apron-clad woman is pulling roasted cauliflower from the oven. She looks at them when they enter the room, and Harry’s breath catches when he sees she has Louis’ eyes. 

“Oh, Lou,” she cries, “You didn’t tell me you were having company over today. I would’ve cleaned up a little.”

“No, it’s fine.” Harry waves her off, giving her a warm smile. “It feels nice in here – lived-in.”

“And who might you be? I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

“This is Harry, mom,” Louis says around a piece of celery in his mouth. “Harry, this is my mom, Francine.”

“Oh, please, call me Frankie.”

“Nice to meet you.” Harry grins. “Your children are lovely. Especially this one.” He elbows Louis in the ribs, nearly making him slip off the stool he’s sitting on.

“Well, thank you,” Frankie smiles, watching her daughters run out the backdoor to play in the yard.

“Alright,” Louis clears his throat, grabbing another piece of celery and tossing it to Harry. “We’ll be in my room.”

“Okay.” Frankie waves them off. “Harry, let me know if you’ll be staying for dinner. I’m sure we’ll have enough food.”

“Okay, I will. Thank you.”

Louis grabs Harry’s hand and pulls him away from the kitchen, leading him up their stairs and down the hall into his room. Louis throws his backpack into his desk chair and flops back onto his un-made bed, checking his phone. His room is a little messy, but Harry doesn’t mind. He enjoys seeing how Louis lives. 

“Sorry about that,” Louis says, still absently scrolling through his phone. 

“For what?” Harry perches himself at the end of Louis’ bed, picking at a loose thread in his jeans. 

“My mom just likes to talk a lot. So I figured we should get out of there before it got too overwhelming.”

“I don’t mind it.” Harry shrugs, sliding a glance toward Louis. “It was nice. Talking to her.”

“Talking to her is one thing, but listening to her stories she tells more than once is another. You know how moms are.”

Harry’s head snaps down to look at his knees, his chest tightening. “No... I don’t know, actually.”

“ _Shit_ , Harry.” Louis throws his phone down beside him and scoots down the bed to wrap an arm around Harry’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry, I guess I forgot. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

Harry shakes his head, a small smile on his face. “No, it’s alright. Don’t worry about it.”

“You should’ve just come over when she wasn’t here.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know...”

“Louis. Don’t you dare feel bad about having a mom just because mine left me. Your mom seems wonderful.” He bites his lip, fingers twisting together. “And, honestly, I wish I had someone in my life like her, but I’m not going to be depressed about it. You’re lucky to have her.”

“I guess... Even though she gets on my nerves sometimes.”

Harry laughs, knocking his shoulder against Louis’. “You’re such an ass.”

Louis shoves him back, causing Harry to lose his balance and fall back onto the bed with a yelp. “Sorry,” Louis says with no meaning behind it. He climbs up over Harry so he’s straddling his hips. Harry rests his hands on Louis’ thighs, and he suddenly has flashbacks from when they were sitting like this in the private room of Harry’s yacht. That was the first time they had been close like this, and also the first time they had kissed each other. Just the thought makes Harry tilt his head back in anticipation. 

“What?” Louis asks, his voice low. He’s teasing his fingers along the hem of Harry’s shirt, and the nail of his thumb keeps flicking against the button of Harry’s jeans. 

“Nothing.” Harry shakes his head, hands sliding up Louis’ thighs. “Just thinking.”

“Don’t hurt yourself, babe.” Louis reaches up to pat Harry’s head.

“Heyyy.” Harry pouts. “Be nice.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to make me.”

Harry doesn’t think twice before he’s rolling to the side to flip them over. It’s only after they’ve both stopped laughing and pinching each other that Harry takes note of their positions. He’s lying between Louis’ legs, which are wrapped beneath the swell of Harry’s butt. They’re both out of breath, chests heaving together as they silently watch one another. 

Harry can feel the warmth of Louis’ groin pressing into his own, and his hips move on instinct when they rut against Louis. 

“Shit, sorry,” Harry grumbles, propping himself up onto his elbows.

Louis is just smiling at him, his hand reaching up to twirl Harry’s hair around his finger. “No need to be sorry.”

Harry allows himself to relax against Louis again. He tucks his arms beneath Louis’ shoulders, fingers tangling in the downy hairs at the base of Louis’ skull. He presses his face against Louis’ warm neck, his cheek pressed against the skin. 

He’s feeling slightly overwhelmed now, but not as bad as he had been in the back of his car earlier. He thinks he’s always a bit overwhelmed around Louis, because being with him is such a new experience. But this position they’re in... It feels good; a position that he’s familiar with. It’s strange, because Harry had never thought he could be in this position with Louis; always thought it had to be opposite, with him on the bottom. But this way he feels confident, and fully capable of getting used to it, especially with Louis.

“I can hear you thinking,” Louis murmurs, his voice right next to Harry’s ear. “I think you even have steam coming out of your ears.” He’s combing a hand through Harry’s hair, and Harry’s sure he could sleep right here forever. 

Harry presses a smile against Louis’ neck, his fingers scratching against Louis’ scalp. “I just feel really good right now.”

“Mmm, I bet,” Louis says, and Harry can hear the smirk in his voice.

Louis shifts suddenly, pressing his shoulders further into the bed and his hips rise, his groin pressing firmly into Harry’s.

“Lou...” Harry groans, feeling his cock twitching in his jeans. “Stop it.”

“Why should I do that?” Louis’ voice is teasing, and he keeps up the movement of his hips.

“Because...” Harry bites his lip against the hardening of his dick. “Your mom and little sisters are just down stairs. And I don’t think we locked your door.”

“They know by now to not come in here without knocking. Come on. Just make yourself feel good, babe.”

Harry’s hips thrust roughly at Louis’ words, a ragged moan dragging from his throat. 

“Shit,” Louis curses, tightening his arms around Harry’s neck. “Go on,” he encourages, his heels pressing against the backs of Harry’s thighs.

Harry’s thrusts quicken, pressing a whine into Louis’ neck. “Lou,” he whimpers enjoying the slide of their clothed cocks together. He’s reaching his high surprisingly quick, his senses filled with everything _Louis_. “Lou,” he cries again, hips pumping.

“Shh...” Louis coos. “It’s alright, I’m here, right here.”

Harry thrusts more firmly into Louis, pressing his knees into the mattress to get better leverage. Louis’ legs are wrapped tightly around him, helping him with the movement of his hips. He gasps when Louis’ hands suddenly tighten in his hair and tug harshly, pulling his face from Louis’ neck to press their lips together. Harry comes immediately, moaning into Louis’ mouth as his hips stutter against Louis’. 

“Ohh,” Harry moans, feeling like he’s coming forever. He props up onto his elbows to pull his mouth from Louis’ so he can breathe. “Shit,” he whispers, tilting to the side until he flops over onto his back beside Louis.

He’s working on catching his breath when the sound of Louis’ zipper catches his ear. He lifts up onto an elbow, watching Louis as he jerks himself off. It’s a lot hotter than it should be, and Harry can’t take his eyes away from Louis’ face; his jaw slack with pleasure and his eyes squeezed shut. He comes a moment later, lifting his shirt so his come lands against his bare stomach. He tucks himself back into his boxers and does up his jeans before collapsing back against the bed, breathless. 

Harry doesn’t even think as he reaches over, dragging his fingers through the mess on Louis’ stomach, making his abdomen muscles jump beneath the ghost of his touch. He pulls his hand away and places one of his fingers into his mouth, sucking Louis’ release off of it. His face still twists up at the taste, but he thinks he doesn’t really mind it that much. 

“Are you trying to kill me?” Louis asks, and Harry just looks at him with innocent eyes, his finger still in his mouth. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

Harry pops his fingers from his mouth and grins. “We should clean up.” Louis nods. “And... I think I might need to borrow some underwear.” He looks down at his crotch, immediately noticing the darkened spot at the front of his jeans. 

Louis throws his head back and laughs, hand pressing against his stomach without thinking. He sits up immediately when his hand gets covered in his cold come.

“Yuck, I’m disgusting.”

“Tell me about it.” Harry rolls his eyes teasingly. “I don’t even know why I like you, honestly.”

Louis swings an arm out at him, trying to smack him. Harry squawks, flinching away from it and, consequently, rolling right off the side of the bed. 

“Payback’s a bitch, ain’t it,” Louis says, leaning over the side of the bed to grin at Harry.

Harry grumbles, rubbing at the back of his head. But he can’t even pretend to be mad when Louis starts laughing, eyes squinted and laugh ringing through the room. Harry climbs up onto this knees and uses the front of Louis’ shirt to pull him down into a kiss, quieting his laughter. 

He allows Louis to lick into his mouth; not even bothered when one of the girls starts screaming at the top of her lungs downstairs.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, the moment you've all been (patiently) waiting for... Chapter 7!
> 
> I can't apologize enough for the long delay of this posting, and I would take a moment to explain everything that's been happening in my life, but I'll spare you all the boring details.
> 
> There's some angst in this chapter, and it's not my favorite thing I've written, so I hope it's not too bad!
> 
> Enjoy xx.

Before Harry knows it, it’s Saturday again.

He hadn’t even gotten around to planning a party that could top the last one, what with all of his time being spent drooling over Louis and handling all of Miranda’s crap. So he makes the grand decision to just have the party at his house, even though he hasn’t held a party at his house since the very first one he ever hosted. But he supposes his house is good for parties since it’s so big and more people can come without it being too packed.

Which is why Harry throws all caution to the wind and makes a social media announcement telling everyone to bring as many friends as they want to. He somehow makes a Snapchat video announcing it, but he can only handle watching it once, because witnessing himself tripping down the stairs at the end is too embarrassing, and he’s too lazy to record it again. 

It’s all a little last-minute, since his parties usually start around nine, and he finishes posting the announcement around noon. But he’s pretty confident that his parties are good enough to have people cancel any plans they have.

He makes a quick run to the liquor store down the street to stock up on beers, hard liquor, and wine with his fake ID. Back at home, he shoves everything into the fridge in the basement, since he’s assuming that’s where most people will be hanging out. He makes sure to stash his favorite beers and wine in the main fridge in the kitchen up stairs. He finds his phone on the counter and presses the home button, the screen lighting up and showing three texts from Louis.

_wow_

_thanks for the heads up about the party_

_making me cancel my plans for you ._

Harry grins to himself, unlocking his phone and typing up a reply.

_**What plans could you possibly have that would top my party?** _

He goes to lock his phone, but Louis’ text bubbles immediately pop up.

_my plans consisted of lounging in sweats and watching netflix . & what is this about topping ??? ;))))_

Harry flushes, glancing over his shoulders as if someone had snuck into his house and is reading his messages over his shoulder.

_**That does NOT sound better than my party. You better show up or there will be no topping of any kind.** _

He locks his phone when all Louis does is reply back with several beer glass emojis. He’s ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure that means he’s coming. 

~

It’s ten o’clock, and the party is already in full-swing. As Harry has guessed, everyone is hanging out in the basement; people sprawled across the several sofas lining the walls, and music blasting from the Spotify app on the TV. Harry’s not even sure who is acting as DJ, but they’re doing one hell of a job.

He’s currently lounging on one of the sofas, a cold can of beer in one hand while his other hand is resting at the small of Miranda’s back as she straddles his thighs. They’ve been making out for a few minutes now, and Harry can already feel the way their lips are being bitten raw and his scalp is burning from the way Miranda keeps pulling at his hair. 

He loses himself in the sensations, especially when he feels Miranda starting to rub herself against his thigh. His hand resting on her back slides down her side and towards the front of her shorts. He presses the heel of his palm against her center, causing her to momentarily break away from the kiss to suck in a breath. He quickly chases after her lips, nipping and sucking at them as he presses his palm more firmly, his fingers teasingly pressing against her through the denim of her shorts. 

“Babe,” she whispers against his lips, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. 

He knows what she’s about to say – something about not doing this where everyone can see – so he kisses her again, slipping his tongue deep inside her mouth. He startles suddenly at an outburst of sound.

“ _Yoooooooo!!!_ ”

The loud voice causes Harry to let go of the beer in his hand, and he watches in shock and confusion as it slips off the arm of the sofa and right into his lap, the beer pouring out all over his crotch. Miranda shrieks and jumps off of him when the cold beer gets on her leg. She’s saying something about her shorts being new, but Harry doesn’t care, he’s too focused on the new arrival to his party. 

He looks around the corner from where he’s sitting to see Louis talking to a group of people by the stairs. So that explains the yelling.

He had been a bit worried when the party first started, because Louis hadn’t shown up yet. So he had lingered by the front door, opening it immediately when the door bell rang, and his face fell every time it wasn’t Louis. Miranda had pulled him away from his post at the door, and soon distracted him with her hotness. But now Louis is here, and distracting Harry even more with his own hotness. 

His breath catches when Louis looks away from who he’s talking to, and he makes instant eye contact with Harry. A smirk slides onto Louis’ face, and Harry feels his insides twist up with anticipation. He watches, awe-struck, as Louis excuses himself from the group of people around him, and grabs a beer from the fridge before continuing on his way over to Harry.

It’s only at this point that Harry realizes the can of beer is now empty and laying in his lap. He groans at the huge wet spot on his crotch. Of course he has decided to wear his only pair of light blue denim tonight, so the beer stain is even more noticeable. He quickly grabs a throw pillow beside him and places it over his crotch, startling when the couch dips next to him.

“Miranda looks good tonight,” Louis says, taking a sip of his beer.

Harry follows Louis’ line of vision to where he’s watching Miranda dancing with her friends, and he can’t help the sting of jealousy when he looks back to the way Louis’ eyes are following her. He shifts moodily into the couch cushion, huffing out a sigh, causing Louis’ heated gaze to slide over to him.

“You’ll always look better, though.” Louis says it so calmly that it catches Harry by surprise, his brain taking a moment to process the words, and his cheeks immediately heat up.

“Thank you,” Harry mumbles, glancing at Louis with a small smile on his face. 

Louis just smiles back and guzzles down the remainder of his beer, Harry watching his throat as he swallows. He shifts against the couch, his jeans sticking uncomfortably to his legs.

“Um,” He clears his throat, standing up and still holding the pillow to his crotch. “I’m gonna go upstairs for a minute. I’ll be right back.”

He makes to step by Louis and go upstairs, but Louis quickly stands up next to him and nods toward the stairs.

“I’ll go with you.”

Harry nods and makes a beeline to the stairs, giving polite smiles and apologies to people who try to stop him. Once to the nearly silent main level of his house, he notices just how loud the basement was. He looks back as Louis closes the basement door, another cold beer in his hand. They share a heated glance when Louis turns fully toward him, his lips wrapped around the neck of his beer.

“Let’s go to my room,” Harry says, heading toward the stairs. 

“Ohh! I like where this is going.”

Harry startles when he feels a smack against his ass. “Hey!” he shouts, covering his butt with the throw pillow to ward off Louis’ hands. “I’m just going to change my jeans, loser.”

“Yes,” Louis moans exaggeratedly, gripping at Harry’s hip as he opens his bedroom door. “I love when you talk dirty to me.”

Harry can’t help the giggle that escapes his mouth, turning around to hit Louis upside the head with the pillow. “Shut _up_ , I swear, you’re so annoying.”

“Oh, that’s it,” Louis huffs, bending over swiftly to set his beer down on the floor before he’s lunging at Harry and tackling him down against the bed. 

“No!” Harry shouts, immediately feeling Louis’ fingers digging into his ribs, tickling at his sensitive skin. “Please, Louis,” he pleads breathlessly. “ _Please_ ”.

Louis relents and rolls off of him, sprawled out along the bed. “You got your piss all over me.” He gestures down to his pants that appear slightly damp.

Harry rolls his eyes and shoves at Louis’ shoulder. “It’s beer, you asshole. And it’s all your fault that I spilled it anyway.”

Louis sits up quickly, a smirk on his face. “And just _how_ is that my fault?”

“Because you distracted me with…” he gestures his hand vaguely over Louis’ person. “…all of that.”

Louis doesn’t even say anything, just stands up at the side of the bed and grabs Harry by his ankles, tugging him closer to the edge of the mattress. He begins unbuttoning Harry’s jeans, sliding his hands beneath the waistband to work them down Harry’s legs.

Harry watches him with bated breath, his cheeks flushing when Louis drops down to his knees in order to slip the jeans off of Harry’s feet. He waits, sprawled out on the bed in just his boxers as Louis disappears into his closet. He comes back out with a pair of black jeans in hand, and Harry notices they’re his newer pair with the knees cut out since they haven't faded to gray yet. 

Louis works the new jeans up Harry’s legs, but it’s a bigger struggle since they’re so much tighter from being new.

“Fuck,” Louis pants, tugging at the waistband of Harry’s jeans, but they don’t budge. “How do you put these damn things on, Harold.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “It’s your fault you got my tightest pair.” He sits up with his feet still hanging off the edge of the bed. He starts at his ankles, pulling the jeans so his feet are completely out of the leg holes. Once that’s done, he stands up and gets a good grip of the waistband, tucking his fingers through the belt loops. “This is the secret part,” he whispers, watching Louis nod seriously.

Harry then starts jumping up and down while pulling at the jeans. He’s out of breath by the time the waistband is only right below his ass. He blatantly ignores Louis’ muffled laughter. 

“I think your ass is too big for them. Although, I really like this look.”

Harry jumps when Louis reaches around to grab his ass. “Stop it, you pervert!” He takes a big breath before using all of his might to finish pulling his jeans up all the way. He’s breathless when he’s done, and there are some sweat droplets forming at his hair line. His cheeks heat even more when he sees the way Louis is staring at his legs. “I’m gonna go…um, freshen up. Be right back.”

He scampers off into his en suite, splashing water into his face without looking at himself in the mirror, because he knows he already looks wide-eyed with blotchy cheeks. He shuts off the tap and just braces himself against the marble countertop, looking down at his hands as he takes in deep breaths. 

He’s still not entirely sure how Louis is capable of doing this to him. He’s not even sure _what_ he’s doing to him. All he knows is he’s too sober right now, and that’s just not okay. With a firm nod of his head, he makes his way back into his room, and walks straight to where Louis’ beer is still sitting on his floor. He downs the whole thing in five seconds before burping loudly and turning to where Louis is sitting on his bed, watching Harry with a face of amusement and concern.

“Y’alright?” Harry asks, looking down to Louis’ lap where he’s holding Harry’s Louis Vuitton wallet. He raises an eyebrow questioningly. 

“Y-yeah, yeah. Just, you have a really nice wallet.”

Harry nods slowly, watching as Louis sets his wallet back on his nightstand. “Why—um… Why didn’t you bring Zayn with you?” he asks, awkwardly twirling the beer bottle in his hands. 

Louis’ body seems to tense a little, avoiding Harry’s eyes. _Interesting_. “Um, he just didn’t feel like coming.”

“Oh, really? I didn’t picture Zayn to be the kind of guy to turn down a party with free alcohol.”

“Right.” Louis laughs tightly, his right hand absently playing with his hair. 

Louis doesn’t seem to be adding anything else to the conversation about Zayn, so Harry waits until Louis looks at him again to nod his head in the direction of his bedroom door. He watches as Louis slips off the bed, and he hands him the empty beer bottle once he’s close enough, then proceeds to skip out of his room

“Let’s take shots!” Harry yells, mainly for Louis’ ears, so he startles a bit when a loud _woooo!!!_ answers him from downstairs. He’s quickly overtaken by a few of his friends on the stairs, leading him down to the kitchen. 

He doesn’t even have a chance to look back to see if Louis is following him.

~

Harry’s been accepting shots from various people for the past couple hours, and it seems now that the party has moved from the basement and into his living room on the main floor. 

He’s feeling nice and loose, his eyes taking a while to catch up every time he turns his head to look at something, which is most often Louis, who has been standing across the room talking to a group of girls. It makes Harry’s stomach flip a little when he sees the way that Louis’ eyes travel down the blonde girl’s body. She seems to take notice of Louis’ attention, as she reaches out toward his hip, tucking two fingers through his belt loop to pull him closer.

Harry suddenly feels nauseous, but that might be partly because of all of the alcohol in his body. He sways where he’s standing by one of the speakers blasting music, reaching out to Miranda when she passes him. He pulls her in close, pressing her against his body and ducking his head to rest it against her shoulder.

“Babe,” she giggles, arms tightening around his middle. “I’ve been looking for you.” Her voice is slightly slurred, so Harry knows she’s pretty drunk, but he can’t blame her - he’s drunk as fuck. 

“Have you?” He asks, voice croaky and lips turning up. “Why’ve you b’n lookin’ for me?” 

“Because,” she breathes, pulling away slightly to look him up and down. “You look really good tonight, and I really like these jeans on you.” She laughs suddenly, almost like she can’t help it. Harry joins her because he can’t really help it either. 

“Lou picked them out for me.”

“Lou?”

He nods, grabbing her waist and pulling her in again, and she starts kissing at his neck. He risks a quick glance over her shoulder to where Louis is still standing, but now it’s just him and the blonde girl, who’s currently got her tongue down Louis’ throat. And Harry nearly gasps when he sees that Louis’ eyes are open and her staring right at him, even as he makes out with some girl. 

Harry doesn’t break eye contact with Louis as he slides a hand down Miranda’s hip, watching Louis’ eyes track the motion. He loops his arm over Miranda’s side and grips firmly at her ass, pulling her closer, making her gasp airily in his ear.

“Like that, babe?” he growls, not looking away from Louis.

Miranda just whines softly against his neck, her wet mouth sucking at his pulse point. He gasps roughly when her small hands start unbuttoning the front of his jeans, and he pulls her closer using the hand gripping her ass. Louis is still watching him, so Harry knows he sees the way his eyes roll back when Miranda gets a hand around him. 

She starts pumping him quickly, and Harry hadn’t even realized how hard he was already. He pays no mind to the partygoers dancing in the living room in front of them, his mind too focused on Louis and the warm hand gripped around his cock. 

“Babe,” he grunts, his hips bucking momentarily. 

She keeps stroking him as she uses her free hand to grip at his jaw, forcing him to look at her so she can lock their lips together. He gets lost in it rather quickly, his drunk mind fogged with pleasure. He opens his eyes while Miranda continues to bite at his lips, and he chokes on saliva when he sees the way Louis has his hand down the front of the blonde girls shorts, her flushed face hiding in his neck. 

He comes suddenly just from the way Louis is watching him, his face pinched in concentration, eyes glued to where Miranda is getting him off. He barely registers Miranda zipping him back up and telling him she’s gonna go make herself throw up to feel better. He slumps against the nearest sofa to his left, blearily watching the way the blonde girl is shuddering against Louis’ body, his eyes no longer locked on Harry; instead, he’s whispering into the girl’s ear, and Harry doesn’t even want to know what he’s saying to her. 

There’s another shot being pressed into his hand, and he groans because he wants to take it, but that means he’ll need another can of Sprite to use as a chaser. He closes his eyes for a moment, settling into the sofa cushion to regain his head. He pushes himself to stand up, and he ambles his way to the kitchen. 

The alcohol in his system suddenly hits him now that he’s standing again, so he takes a few stumbles on his way there, but he makes it eventually, clinging to the countertop by the kitchen entrance. He takes a few deep breaths to avoid the wave of nausea that overcomes him, and shuffles over to the fridge for more soda. He turns around to lean against the kitchen island, placing his shot and can of soda in front of him.

He climbs up onto the high bar stool at the counter, and slumps against the cool surface. His face is burning hot, and he’s not sure how much of it is from the alcohol, and how much is from the heated looks Louis was giving him across the room. He whimpers and presses the heel of his palm against the front of his constricting jeans. Just the thought f Louis being enough to turn him on again. Damn Louis for picking out his tightest jeans and then proceeding to turn him on just by looking at him. 

He doesn’t remember closing his eyes, but suddenly they’re flying open when an arm drapes over his shoulders. He doesn’t even have to turn his head to know it’s Louis, able to identify him by his scent. _Fuck, he’s in deep_.

“What are you doing in here, babe?” Louis slurs, his other hand sliding down Harry’s leg to grip at his knee that’s exposed from his jeans. “ _Shit_ , you’ve got sexy knees, bro,” he adds on, his voice muffled by Harry’s head.

Harry’s smiles where his face is smushed against the countertop. “‘M taking a shot, _bro_.” He supposes they’re just going ignore everything that just happened out in the living room.

“Sure doesn’t look like it.”

“You have to do this before you take a shot, or you die.”

Louis chuckles into his ear, and Harry can’t help but let out a giggle. Then Louis’ warmth is gone and he lifts his head slowly to watch him maneuver around the kitchen, pouring himself a shot.

“Here,” he says, walking back over to him, “I’ll take one with you.” He grabs Harry’s hand and guides him off of the bar stool, standing next to each other.

Harry sways slightly, and Louis is quick to grip at his hip, keeping him upright. Harry grins at him, leaning more of his weight against the strong, firm body next to him, not even questioning it when his lips press against the corner of Louis’. 

“Harold,” Louis warns, gesturing his head to Harry's shot. 

Harry grabs the small glass clumsily, taking a sip of the Sprite in his other hand. 

Louis raises his shot between their faces. “To new beginnings,” he says, a weighted look set on Harry. _What’s that supposed to mean?_

“‘New beginnings.”

They clink their glasses together, tipping their heads back to take the shot, Harry quickly following his with the carbonated beverage to get rid of the burning sensation in his mouth and throat. 

Harry sways heavily again. “I’m drunk,” he says, giggling uncontrollably.

“Same.”

“And horny.”

“Already?”

Harry looks down to where his crotch is pressed against Louis’ thigh, his bulge obvious despite his tight jeans. He throws his arms around Louis’ neck, mouthing at the soft skin he finds there. “Wanna help me out with that?”

Louis’ hand tightens on his hip, but he doesn’t say anything. He pulls back to look Louis in the eye, breathing out heavily when their blown eyes meet. Their faces are inches apart now, and Harry takes note of the way Louis’ eyes keep flickering down to his lips, then back to his eyes. 

“Kiss me?” Harry breathes, leaning onto his tiptoes to be pressed closer against Louis’ body.

“Why should I do that, baby?”

“Because you haven’t kissed me all day,” Harry whines, tugging at the back of Louis’ hair.

Louis sighs. “You can’t really blame me.”

Harry quickly detaches himself from Louis. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean? Do you… Do you not want me anymore? Did I do something?”

“Yes - I mean no!” Louis swipes a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face as he starts to pace in circles. “You have a girlfriend, Harry.”

“So? That hasn’t stopped you before.”

“That doesn’t mean we should keep going behind her back! You’re cheating on her. You do realize that, right?”

Harry takes a step back suddenly, his mouth falling open like he’s been slapped, and he feels completely sober now. He can’t believe what’s coming out of Louis’ mouth. Miranda hasn’t been an issue between them before. Louis knew he was with her before he and Louis even knew each other. “I can’t believe you,” he says, shoving harshly at Louis’ shoulders, making him stumble back. “You knew all along I was with her! Why the fuck is it a problem now, huh?” He takes another shove at Louis, but he doesn’t stumble like he had before, almost like he was expecting it to happen again. “First you make me realize that I might like guys. You let us get off together, and make out. You kissed me first, for fuck’s sake! You turned my whole life upside down, making me consider coming out as bi or whatever.” He huffs out a breath, pushing back his hair. 

Louis’ eyes go wide, and he opens his mouth to talk, but Harry doesn’t let him. He lunges forward to shove at Louis again but as soon as his hands make contact with Louis’ shoulders, strong hands are gripping at his waist and tugging him in as close as their bodies can get. 

Their faces are inches a part and they’re both breathing heavily. “You made me really start to like you, Louis,” Harry sighs, then suddenly Louis is kissing him, a rough press of lips.

Harry falls for it for only a moment, letting himself kiss back, molding their lips together like the perfect puzzle. But he then remembers Louis is an ass, so he shoves him away, wiping the back of his hand against his mouth like he’s disgusted, but he’s really not. “Is this because I haven’t let you fuck me yet?”

“Har—”

Harry cuts him off before he can finish, “I’m sorry, Louis. I’m sorry that I can’t just drop my entire life and change my entire reputation and perspective on everything to be with you.” He makes sure he’s somewhat presentable before he walks away from Louis, leaving the kitchen.

He speaks just before exiting the kitchen without looking behind him, “If you want someone easier to fuck, maybe you should call up Zayn.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys! I apologize for the long wait. I'm not even going to spend more time writing out an explanation here, I just hope you enjoy this chapter!  
> There will probably be 2 more chapters before this story comes to an end.

It’s been two weeks since Harry has spoken to Louis, and he’s pretty sure he’s slowly losing his mind.

He doesn’t even know how he went his whole life without having Louis as a friend. All of their sexual tension aside, Louis is actually a really fun person to hang out with, and Harry misses the way his stomach would hurt from laughing so much with him. Now there’s this ache inside him that has no other explanation except that he really misses Louis. It’s there from when he wakes up in the morning, to when he’s trying to fall asleep at night. 

Harry’ll admit he was a bit dramatic at his party when he exploded at Louis for calling him out for cheating on Miranda. And, honestly, it’s because that’s a topic that Harry himself has been avoiding, not wanting to come to terms with the fact that he actually _was_ cheating on Miranda. It makes him feel like literal shit, and he knows that he should find a way to break up with her soon, or the guilt is going to eat him alive.

Truthfully, he hasn’t even been spending time with Miranda that much either, telling her that he’s had a really bad sinus infection and is taking antibiotics; that alone scared her into avoiding his house at all costs, and it just makes Harry feel even more like shit. 

He and Miranda still speak to each other at school, when they arrive and when they are passing between classes. Sometimes he’ll even go out of his way and sit with her at lunch instead of sitting with his usual group of friends. Which is what he’s doing now, weaving his way through the crowded cafeteria, heading in the direction of where Miranda usually sits.

She beams a smile at him when he emerges from the crowd, and it makes Harry’s stomach knot up. He gives her his charming smile, teeth and all, and he notices the way her group of friends stare at him a moment longer than normal. 

“Hello ladies,” he greets, giving a short wave. “Hi babe.” He leans over the table to press a kiss to her lips as he’s sliding into the seat across from her. 

“Hi,” she says, already sliding half of her sandwich in front of him. _He really doesn’t deserve her_.

He takes a bite, watching her as she picks at a bit of lettuce on her place. “You okay?” he asks, leaning on his elbows. 

“Yeah.” She waves him off, shrugging. “Just stressed about finals, you know?” 

He nods, opening his mouth to reply, but he’s cut short when he notices the piercing blue eyes that are watching him from two tables in front of theirs. He swallows thickly and turns to look down at his sandwich, taking a bite just so he has something to do. 

“I’m sorry, babe,” he tells her, reaching over to grab one of her hands, rubbing his thumb gently across her knuckles. “You know you’re going to do great, you always do.” He smiles warmly at her, knowing she’s weak for his dimples. And he’s done his job when she cracks a smile at him, squeezing at his fingers. 

For the remainder of lunch, he uses all of his willpower to not look up and seek out those damn blue eyes. 

~

After lunch, Harry finds himself sat in his Trigonometry class, the one and only class he has with Louis; besides gym, but really Louis and Zayn are never there anyway. 

It’s been a miracle that they haven’t had any partner work assigned for this class in the past two weeks, so Harry only finds it fitting when Ms. Hower stands up in front of class and starts speaking.

“As you all know,” she starts, making sure everyone is paying attention, “we’re starting a new section next week, and it’s the topic that my students in the past have struggled greatly with. So, I’ve assigned quite a bit of homework for this weekend, just so you all can get the hang of it before we start fresh next week.” The whole class groans collectively, while Harry just bites at his thumbnail, feeling eyes on the back of his neck. “Now, everyone settle down,” Ms. Hower starts again, flapping her hands in the air. “I had a feeling you all would react this way, which is why I decided to make this homework partner work! You’ll be able to work with your partners that were assigned for previous assignments.”

The class cheers quietly, some people still dreading the fact that they have homework at all, despite it being partner work. Meanwhile, Harry is quite literally having a heart attack. _Partner work_. That means he’ll have to work with Louis again. Well, that is if he decides to work with him at all. He could just choose not to work with Louis and just do it all himself, but then that wouldn’t really be fair to Louis at all. In the end, Louis hadn’t really done anything wrong, so it’s not like Harry should be rude to him, but he can’t really help it. 

Ms. Hower continues on with the lecture that was planned for today, leaving their homework assignment written in the corner of the board. Harry can barely focus on what his teacher is saying, his leg bouncing beneath his desk, pen tapping uncontrollably against the tabletop. 

He’s trying to come up with a good way he can speak to Louis about their homework, and make it to where it’s a civil conversation between two colleagues. However, in each one of his imaginary situations in which that’s happening, Harry just finds himself blushing and stuttering like an idiot. _That’s it_. He's just going to do the assignment on his own.

Before he knows it, the students around him are standing up and leaving the classroom; Harry hadn’t even heard the bell ring. He gathers his stuff quickly and practically runs out the door. He’s thankful this was his last class of the day, and that their coach had given them a day-off from practice, so he can run to his car and get the hell out of here.

He’s just rounding the corner of the school building outside, heading toward the student parking lot, and that’s when he sees him, lingering by Harry’s car. 

Louis has a cigarette hanging between his lips, and he’s squinting against the bright sun. It all makes him look devastatingly handsome, and Harry takes two steps backward to go back into the school building, maybe wait him out, but it’s too late, because Louis is suddenly looking right at him.

Harry groans out loud, lifting a hand in a small wave when Louis raises a hand at him. He slowly makes his way to his car, his feet yelling at him to go in another direction. His phone buzzes where it’s clutched in his hand, and he groans again when he sees that Miranda has texted him, telling him they need to talk.

He gets tunnel vision and his heart is doing flips in his chest. He can hardly see straight when he finally makes his way to Louis, his head feeling like it’s floating away from him.

“Whoa,” Louis says, reaching out to grab his arm as Harry sways on his feet, nearly falling over. “Come here.” Louis guides him to his car, helping him lean against the hood. “You okay?”

Harry nods loosely, shrugging off his backpack to get the heavy weight off his back, realizing he forgot to drop his textbooks off at his locker. And it’s that single thought that makes tears cloud his vision. He turns his head from Louis, not wanting him to see him cry, but it’s too late when there are already tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Alright, that doesn’t look like you’re okay,” Louis says, his voice aiming for light and comedic, but it makes a sob break out of Harry’s throat. 

“I—I forgot to…to put my textbooks in my l-locker,” Harry chokes out, wiping at his eyes.

Louis looks at him like he’s lost his mind, and a smile starts slowly growing across Louis’ face. 

“Don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m not laughing! Not yet, at least.”

Harry glares at him, but he holds no heat behind it, realizing how ridiculous he just sounded. But he can't tell Louis the real reason why he’s crying; that he feels like his life is slowly falling apart; first he cheats on Miranda, and then Louis doesn’t want him anymore, and now Miranda wants to talk to him probably in order to break up with him. He deserves it, honestly, but it still makes him sad. 

“Hey, listen,” Louis starts, pausing to clear his throat. “I’m sorry about your…textbook problem. But, um, I just wanted to talk to you about the trig homework. I was gonna talk to you in the classroom, but it seemed like you were in some sort of comatose state when the bell rang.”

“Oh, sorry. Just, um, have a lot on my mind.”

“No, that’s fine. I was thinking maybe you can just take half of the problems, then I’ll take the other half, and we can send each other our work.”

“Oh.” Harry’s startled, thinking Louis was going to offer to meet up so they can work on them together. _Guess not_. “Yeah, that works. I’ll take the first half, I guess.”

“Cool, cool.” Louis nods, scuffing his shoe against the pavement, and it’s so _awkward_ between them now. 

They hold eye contact for a moment, and Louis opens his mouth to say something more, but he’s cut off.

“Hi, babe.”

They both whip their heads in the direction of the voice, seeing Miranda standing there looking timid. Harry lifts an arm when she walks over to him, tucking herself into his side. He kisses the top of her head and looks at Louis, who is staring at his own feet.

“Right, then. I’ll see you later, Harry. Bye, Miranda.”

“See ya,” she replies, stepping away from Harry once Louis walks away. 

Harry watches him for a short moment as he leaves, before turning his attention back to Miranda.

“You wanted to talk?”

“Yeah.” She nods. “Um, well. I was looking into colleges and stuff for after we graduate, which lead to me applying for some scholarships.” She waves her hand as if that’s not the important part. “So I applied for one to study abroad in Europe, not thinking anything would come of it, but they called me yesterday and I got it.”

“Well, that’s great, babe!” Harry leans in to hug her, but she holds a hand up to his chest.

“I would be flying to Germany two weeks after graduation. And I think, you know since we’ll both be doing our own thing; I think it would be best if we stopped seeing each other.”

Harry’s heart stops, and he feels the way his eyes nearly pop out of his head. He was expecting it and all, but it’s so much different hearing it in person, rather than just inside his own head. He opens his mouth to reply, but nothing even comes out.

“I know I’m not the only one who felt that this was the direction our relationship was heading, Harry.” She takes a step away from him, her arms crossed over her chest. “And,” she takes a deep breath, looking away from him, “now you’ll be able to be with Louis without me being in the way…”

Now Harry’s eyes quite literally almost pop out of his head. “Miranda, wh-what?”

“I’m not stupid, Harry. It’s obvious the way you became infatuated with him. And the day after school, when I found you guys in the backseat of your car…you told me you guys had trig homework to work on.” Harry nods. “My friend Dani is in trig with you guys, and she said there wasn’t any homework that weekend.”

“Miranda, listen—”

“No, Harry. I don’t want to hear it. I came to terms with it a while ago, and honestly, I was just waiting for you to be the one to break up with me, and the whole time… The whole time I knew you guys were going behind my back.” She shrugs her shoulders heavily, giving him a self-deprecating smile. “And it hurt, yeah, but I could see the way you practically turned into the sun when you were around him; something you never did around me.”

“I loved you,” he blurts, because it was true, at one point.

“I think you were more in love with my company, Harry.” She takes a step forward, grabbing his hand and holding it between her own. “I just hope you’re able to find what you’re looking for Harry.” She leans up to press a soft, fleeting kiss to his lips. “And I think Louis might be able to help you with that.” 

He reaches out to cup her cheek, his heart twisting at her words. “I’m sorry,” he croaks out, vision blurry. “I’m so sorry, Miranda.”

She smiles kindly at him, shaking her head and tucking a stray hair behind his ear. “Goodbye, Harry.”

She walks away then, walking back to the school building, and Harry feels as if so much weight has been lifted off his shoulders, but in the same moment, more weight was added. 

He stands there in the parking lot a while more, just staring out at the sun as it sets. His mind feels empty, aside from the radiating heat burning behind his eyes. He’s not sure if he’s supposed to feel relieved for sad, or maybe a mixture of both. Right now, he just feels empty and on the verge of tears.

He shakily picks up his backpack and slides into the driver’s seat of his car. He drives on autopilot to the house of someone he hopes will be able to comfort him right now, and maybe he’ll also be able to get some more of the weight off of his chest. 

~

“So… Do you want to talk about it?”

Harry looks up from where his face is pressed into Liam’s soft down comforter, peering over at Liam who is spinning around slowly in his desk chair. 

“Mmh.” Harry plops his face back down onto the bed. “What makes you think something is wrong?”

“Well, you barged into my house, stripped off your clothes. Now you haven’t said anything for over an hour and your face looks like someone just killed a puppy right in front of you.”

The thought makes Harry pout into the blanket, pulling it tighter around his bare shoulders. Damn Liam and his intuition towards people’s feelings. Harry groans, rolling over onto his back, sprawling across Liam’s bed, not caring that he’s completely naked; Liam has seen it all before anyway. 

“Miranda broke up with me,” he says, staring at the ceiling fan as it spins around. 

“You’re lying.”

Harry sits up, rubbing a fist against his eye and shaking his head. “No, really. She texted me after school saying we needed to talk, and then she broke up with me in the parking lot.” He laughs bitterly, making Liam look at him as if he’s still joking. “Really, Liam. I’m not lying. Go ahead and call her, see for yourself.”

“But.” Liam fish-mouths, eyebrows pinched. “But why would she break up with you? You guys were, like, the perfect couple.”

Harry smirks down at his feet. _If only you knew, Liam_. “She’s going to Germany two weeks after graduation. I guess she, uh, wanted a clean slate.”

“That still doesn't make sense. Hasn’t she ever heard of long-distance relationships?”

Harry flops back against the bed again, groaning and rubbing his hands over his face. “That’s not all, Liam…”

Liam raises his eyebrows at him, as if saying ‘ _spit it out already_ ’.

“I may, or may not have, uh… cheated on her?”

Liam gasps sharply, and Harry doesn't even need to look over at him to know that his mouth is gaping and his eyes are wide as saucers. 

And suddenly something hits Harry straight in the face, knocking him dizzy momentarily, but then it keeps hitting him. He shouts, trying to roll away from Liam, who is continuously hitting him with a pillow. 

“How could you do something like that, Harry!” Liam shouts, climbing up onto the bed so he can keep hitting Harry with the pillow he has gripped in his hands. “I looked up to you, you know?!”

“Liam!” Harry gasps, shielding his head with his arms. “Please! Please just let me explain!”

The hitting stops abruptly, and Harry slowly removes his head from the safeness between his arms, peeking over at Liam who is sitting at the end of the bed, a frown on his face and the pillow still clutched in his hands.

“Go on, then. Explain.”

Harry huffs, rearranging himself on the bed so he’s sitting across from Liam, legs crossed. He fixes his eyes on his fingers, where they’re twisting in his lap. He’s not sure exactly how to say it… “I’m gay," he blurts, head snapping up in shock.

Liam continues to look at him, but his grip on the pillow loosens slightly. His brows are pinched, like he wants to ask something but doesn’t know how. “Okay…” Liam says slowly, “but that doesn’t explain the cheating part?”

“Right.” Harry clears his throat, gnawing on his lip. “You know Louis? Tomlinson?”

Liam eyes widen slightly, head nodding.

“I’ve been sort of, erm, seeing him… for a while.”

“Oh,” Liam breathes, looking down at the bed momentarily. “And Miranda found out?”

Harry scoffs, “Really? “Oh”? That's all you have to say about me coming out as gay?”

Liam shrugs. “I don't really care who you’re with, Harry. I’m just glad you’re not with Miranda anymore, if that wasn’t making you happy.”

Harry smiles at him, shaking his head in disbelief. “Um, yeah. Yeah, Miranda found out. I guess Louis and I weren't very sneaky about it.” He smiles to himself, thinking about how me and Louis were so careless, so dangerous. He’s honestly not surprised that Miranda found out. “She actually didn’t seem very mad about it, or anything. Probably more upset about that fact that I went so long without telling her.”

Liam nods, finally letting go of the pillow completely and tossing it at the head of the bed. “So, you and Louis then?” He gives Harry a dirty grin, waggling is eyebrows. 

Harry’s face falls and he reaches out to pull the duvet over his legs. “Um, actually, we’re not really talking right now.”

“What!? What happened?”

“He, uh, he was kind of getting stressed out about the whole thing. How we were going behind Miranda’s back, you know. And I may have said some things to make him mad, I think.”

“How long were you guys seeing each other?”

“Um, a few weeks. Almost a month, maybe.”

“It took him that long to realize what you guys were doing was wrong?” Liam scoffs, rolling his eyes.

Harry averts his eyes from Liam. Liam’s words ring true - what he was doing with Louis _was_ wrong. But it was hard to see it that way…when everything felt so right. 

“Shit,” Liam curses, reaching out to place a hand on Harry’s knee. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean, if he thought it was wrong, it took him an awful long time to figure that out.”

Harry nods. “No, you’re right. It was wrong. And I feel guilty for it, honestly. It was just hard for me to deny the way he made me feel when I was with him.” He realizes it’s probably getting too sentimental to be having this conversation with Liam right now, but he can’t hold it in anymore. “He’s amazing, Liam,” he sighs, flopping back onto the bed. “He made me feel so…so _free_. God, I can’t explain it. He’s everything I never knew I wanted. And now I don't even have him anymore.”

Suddenly the pillow is flying at him again, hitting him straight in the face. He sits up abruptly, about to chuck the pillow back at Liam’s face, but then he sees the knowing smirk plastered on Liam’s face.

“You know what you have to do, Harry.”

Harry groans, lying down not he bed again, pressing the pillow into his face.

Why does Liam always have to be right?

~

It’s been a week since Harry was last at Louis’ house, but he still knows how to get there as if he’s been driving there his entire life. 

It’s Saturday now, about midday, and Harry is hoping Louis’ mom will be at work, and his siblings at daycare. And when he pulls up in the driveway, the only car there is Louis’ broken down Volkswagen, so he feels a little relieved.

He walks up to the front door of Louis’ house, shoving his car keys into his front pocket anxiously. He hasn’t even thought about what he’s going to say, exactly, but he knew Liam was right when he said Harry needed to talk to Louis. 

But now, standing on Louis’ porch with shaking hands, he’s starting to think Liam might not have been right. Maybe Louis just doesn’t want to be with him, and he used Miranda as an excuse in order to not completely hurt Harry’s feelings. 

_Stop it_ , Harry tells himself. He’s being irrational, he knows, and he just needs to get this over with, or he'll never know the truth.

He raises one shaky fist, breathing out heavily before knocking on the door. He’s only able to knock once before the door is swinging open, and Zayn’s face is greeting him. Zayn’s very _angry_ face. Um, okay.

“Hi,” Harry says, after waiting for Zayn to say something.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is blunt, and Harry’s never heard him sound like this before.

“Um, I’m here to talk to Louis?”

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“How… Did he tell you something?”

Zayn rolls his eyes and goes to close the door in Harry’s face, but Harry shoots out an arm to stop it.

“Wait! Just…just tell me what’s going on. Is he mad at me?”

Zayn’s glaring at him now, and Harry’s surprised there isn’t steam coming from his nostrils. “No. But I am. And he should be too, honestly.” He shoves at Harry’s arm, trying to get him to move.

“Let me talk to him! Please.”

“He’s not in the mood to talk, Harry. Just leave him alone. You’ve done enough, trust me.”

“What are you talking about? ‘ _Done enough_ ’? What have I done?”

Before Zayn can even reply, Harry spots movement over Zayn’s shoulder, and he knows it’s Louis without even getting a clear look. He barges open the door, shoving past Zayn and stumbling over to the sofa in the living room where the movement came from. And Harry’s breath catches in his throat.

It’s Louis. He’s laying on the sofa, an ice pack resting on his forehead, and a cast around his left hand and wrist. He looks roughed up and vulnerable and Harry wants to cry.

“Lou,” he croaks, emotion clogging his throat. He falls to his knees grabbing Louis’ good hand between his own. “Louis, what happened? Are you alright?”

Louis’ eyes slowly open to look at him, a small smile spreading across his lips. “Beauty,” he whispers, removing his hand from Harry’s to run it through Harry’s hair. Harry flushes, knowing Zayn is standing not ten feet away from them. 

“It's me, Louis. It’s Harry.”

Louis nods, still smiling, but his eyes are no longer open. “So beautiful.”

Harry looks questioningly at Zayn.

“He’s on some heavy pain killers right now. He has a mild concussion and some nearly broken fingers.”

Harry snaps his head back over to look at Louis. “Oh, Louis…” he breathes, brushing Louis’ hair out of his face. “What happened?”

“For you,” Louis murmurs, reaching out for Harry’s hand. 

“For me?” Harry gasps. “Louis, what do you mean? Did I do this?” He whips around to look at Zayn. “Is this what you were talking about?”

Zayn merely looks at him. “You should probably just wait for those meds to be out of his system. Then he can explain everything.”

With that, Zayn his slipping his shoes on at the front door and leaving. 

Harry stares down at Louis, who’s softly snoring now. His mind is reeling, trying to comprehend the fact that he somehow cause all of this to happen to Louis. _Poor Louis…_

A single tear streaks down his face as he gets more comfortable on the ground beside Louis, knowing he’ll be here for a while waiting for him to wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does this count as a cliffhanger? If so, I'm sorry (:


End file.
